


Leave the battlefield, leave her hand

by ariadne83, somehowunbroken



Series: We are a woven thread, find the strand [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: AU, Extreme Big Bang 2014, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Lady Batman, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 101,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne83/pseuds/ariadne83, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Gotham everyone has secrets, even from the ones they love the most. Britta Wayne and Harvey Dent are no exceptions. Between Wayne Enterprises, Bat-duties, and raising a pair of Graysons, Britta had a lot on her plate already. But now they're trying to settle young Jason Todd into his new home in the midst of Harvey's campaign for re-election.</p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, thanks ever so much to stormylullabye for doing an excellent beta job on this even though she has no idea about the fandom, and thanks to camshaft22 for content beta duties. Thanks also to lunabee34 for helping us with baby details.
> 
>  **Content/Warnings:** Mentions of Jason Todd's past on the street, but details are never given. References to underage prostitution. Some graphic descriptions of violence and injury.
> 
> This story is an AU that focuses on Britta Wayne, Bruce's older sister, who decides to take on the mantle of the Batman while her brother is still learning how to grow up. The story is obviously wildly AU, but we did use plot points from Long Halloween, Dark Victory, Killing Joke, and Death in the Family. You don't need to have read those stories in order to read this one. We stuck to some of that canon more closely than other parts, so please don't judge the story by its references. We've included some notes about what's been changed in the end notes; if you'd like more specific warnings about what we did and did not use or what major changes happened, please contact somehowunbroken on [gmail](mailto:somehowunbroken@gmail.com) or on [tumblr](http://somehowunbroken.tumblr.com).
> 
> Title of the story and from the series as a whole are from Vienna Teng and Alex Wong's [The Breaking Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjzBRxOPF0E).

Britta Wayne hadn't seen herself as the marrying kind, once upon a time. Not when she was a little girl and she first saw her father lay hands on her mother. Not when she was eight and her baby brother was born. Not when she was seventeen and she buried her parents after what was supposed to have been a reconciliation. And definitely not once she donned the cape and cowl. She had too much going on, too much to lose - her fortune, the respect of her Board of Directors, the freedom to be who she needed to be. And later, after she had Dick and Rowan and Jason to watch out for in addition to Bruce, it seemed too hard.

She'd told Harvey this a hundred times before they started sleeping together. Back when they'd been friends and allies thrown together for campaign strategies - back when he was just her shoulder to lean on. But she's never told Harvey the full truth about her nighttime hobbies; it wouldn't be fair, after how hard she's grilled each Robin about the importance of keeping the secret from the people they care about. He wants to ask, she can tell. He goes quiet when he traces the scars on her shoulders, stomach, back, arms. Then again, Harvey has his own scars he doesn't talk about, so they're pretty much even.

And neither of them _needs_ to talk about why they still live apart, even though she caved and asked him to marry her a year ago - Harvey works all hours at the DA's office, Britta works all hours at Wayne Enterprises, there are the boys to consider, and Harvey's campaign, and Jason's adoption process. They have an unspoken agreement that they're going to be systematic about this, careful and controlled. If they schedule things right, they can manage all the irons they have in the fire without getting burnt.

Which, of course, is why Britta Wayne, heiress, vigilante, mother of two and guardian of one, is laughing hysterically and staring at a positive pregnancy test.

"Harvey," she chokes out between breaths. "You won't fucking believe it." His campaign manager is absolutely going to kill her; they're fourteen months out from re-election.

He's tying his tie when he steps into the bathroom. "Can it wait? We have dinner with the Governor in twenty minutes."

"The longer we leave it, the more likely Ethel is to strangle us both."

Harvey stops then, and does a double-take when he sees the look on Britta's face. "What's wrong?" he says softly. "I can cancel dinner."

"We're about to make the pro-life contingent of voters either really happy or really pissed." She uncurls her fist and the test falls to the floor.

Harvey bends down and hugs her as best he can, considering her perch on the toilet seat. "I'm not really concerned about anyone except you right now," he says into her shoulder.

Britta leans her weight against him, because fuck. _Fuck_. She has quarterly reports to look over, reports she's fallen asleep on top of the last two nights in a row, and _this_ is why. This wasn't in the plan; not yet, not now. Not in the middle of a campaign, not with Bruce douching it up in college, not with _two kids in high school_.

"I'm cancelling dinner," Harvey says firmly.

"You don't have to-"

"Some things are more important than making small talk with someone I work with on a regular basis anyway."

Okay, this? One of the reasons she fell for him in the end. Britta and Harvey are two of the busiest people in Gotham, but he's always prepared to prioritize. He's never once in the seven years she's known him missed the anniversary of her parents' death, never missed Dick and Rowan's birthday even if it clashes with a rally, rarely stands her up (definitely no more than she stands _him_ up). He's one of very few people in this city who genuinely cares about Britta the person, not Britta the symbol, Britta the celebutante, Britta the corporate entity, or Batman, bringer of justice.

She nods against his chest. "I'll tell Alfred we'll be home after all."

He'll have enough dinner for everyone anyway, he always does, but one of the things Britta finds most irritating about Bruce is his inability to exercise common courtesy. Alfred is a _gem_ and the way Bruce takes advantage of his professionalism is a crime; letting him know what her plans are takes seconds, and it always makes him smile. They could use more of those around here.

They both keep their calls short and succinct, and then Britta flops onto the bed in her evening dress. "I have no fucking idea what to do."

Harvey sits down more carefully - he doesn't exactly have dozens of tuxes at his fingertips - and then stretches out next to her.

"No matter what goddamn choice I make it's going to end up plastered all over the news," she says bitterly.

Harvey just laces their fingers together. "I can handle it if you can."

Britta sighs. "We didn't plan for this. You're busy, I'm busy, Bruce is insane, the boys are-" She sighs again, out of words to accurately describe the Grayson twins, as always. "And Jason's custody hearing is next month."

Harvey squeezes her hand. "The hearing is just a formality. He's settled in well here, his report card is good, and he hasn't been arrested in over six months."

Britta grimaces. "Don't remind me." When Bullock had brought Jason back to her door, sullen and sure she was about to end her "social experiment" by handing the kid straight back to him, she'd wanted to punch him right in the middle of his cynical face. She hopes Jason really has stopped acting out, though, and not just gotten better at hiding it.

"They're good kids. Even Bruce, most of the time," Harvey jokes.

"I swear, if he trashes one more dorm room I'm cutting him off."

"And that's what makes you a great mother."

Britta breathes in sharply. "I'm not - I haven't done baby since _Bruce_ was a baby. I put a dog collar on him."

Harvey shrugs. "He lived."

"I never did get to have a puppy," Britta complains. "Mom said we weren't home enough."

Harvey squeezes her hand again. "Are you saying you'd like to slow down?"

"Kids should grow up with pets."

"Astounding logic as ever, darling."

"The baby would be due right in the middle of your campaign. We'd probably get rumors about me being your beard again. It'd complicate things with Jason's adoption."

"We'd have an easier time adopting him as a couple," Harvey counters. "I don't give a damn about rumors. And my campaign team is excellent; they'll adapt."

"Why do I ever bother arguing with a lawyer?"

"We can make this work if it's what you want. We can protect your privacy if you don't want to go through with it."

"Elections and privacy don't mix."

"We'll make them mix. Would _you_ cross us, the most powerful woman in the city and her lawsuit-happy partner?"

Britta elbows him and laughs. "The Assistant DA is litigious? Who'd have ever guessed that?"

"I have hidden depths."

“Well, Mr. Mysterious, I guess I'm not going to Hong Kong in March."

"The Board will love that," Harvey says, rolling over and wrapping his arm around her.

She smiles and curls into him. "The boys are on break. I could take them there now."

"I'll clear my schedule."

Britta smiles wider. "Family holiday, huh? Cute."

"It could be a honeymoon if you play your cards right."

"Vanity Fair would never forgive me."

Harvey kisses the side of her head. "Whatever you want."

"Ethel really is going to kill us. You know that, right?" She has Harvey's campaign timed down to the second and now she's going to have to redo the whole thing, starting with tonight, following with a week in Hong Kong and ongoing coordination with Britta's OB/GYN. Whom she hasn't even chosen yet. Britta snorts, and Harvey joins in with a short, huffing laugh of his own.

"I feel like a teenager who's been caught behind the bleachers," he says right into her ear.

Britta cracks up at that. "You think she's going to send us to the principal?"

"I think she's the scary assistant principal who doesn't need to send anyone anywhere."

Britta buries her face in his shirt and laughs herself sick; she'll get Alfred to take it to the dry cleaner's tomorrow morning, while Harvey's asleep. He's always so particular about doing things himself, but he'll have to get over that when he finally moves into the mansion, otherwise Alfred will think Harvey doesn't love him. The picture of them having a tug of war over dirty socks sets her off again and Harvey joins in, his deep laugh making her whole body shake where she’s pressed up against him.

Eventually she composes herself and wipes her face against his collar. "I can't believe somebody's letting _us_ have a baby." She tips her head up and kisses him and Harvey kisses her back, rolling her over and pressing her into the pillows.

Then there's a sharp knock on the door. "Mooom! Dinner's ready!"

Rowan, thank god; Dick would've just walked right in. She keeps meaning to have better locks installed, but she hasn't had time to get them custom-made and the boys are too skilled for anything generic. Those are the hazards of teaching your kids to be your superhero sidekicks - they know how to break into your room, and they have weird personal boundaries. And she can't even threaten to take Dick's car privileges away; Roy has a motorbike and he’s more than happy to come visit Gotham for a change of scenery.

"We'll be there in a minute," she calls back. She waits a few seconds in the hopes that Rowan will be gone - no use listening for the footfalls of an acrobat, damn it - and then slaps Harvey on the back. "We should probably get changed; we look like-"

"We've been rolling around on the bed in evening wear?"

"Yeah, just like that," she says, grinning. "Dick will waggle his eyebrows at us through the whole meal if we don't go down soon."

"Anything but that," Harvey says, rolling off of her and standing. He holds his hand out to help her up. "Let's get straightened up, then."

-0-

They land in Hong Kong at the beginning of August and go directly to the hotel. Hong Kong is an amazing place, but the middle of the summer means it's hot and humid, so the air conditioning and pool at the hotel are incredibly important to the boys. Which means they're incredibly important to Britta's sanity. Dick and Rowan drag Jason out of the room as soon as they dig out their swim trunks, and Britta gets a yelled promise to be back in time for supper as they run out the door.

Harvey crosses the room and locks the door; Britta doesn't even have time to ask what he's doing before he's at her side, unzipping her dress. She laughs a little. "The flight wasn't _that_ long."

"Long enough." Harvey leans in and kisses her neck, even though she's pretty sure she's gross and sweaty.

"Let's shower," she suggests, turning so she can kiss him. "Together saves water, right?"

"There's the sharp-minded businesswoman I fell in love with," Harvey says, sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

"I knew I'd come up with an idea even you couldn't object to someday," Britta teases back, stepping out of the dress as it slides to the floor.

Harvey's hands fall to her waist, and his face takes on that soft edge she's been seeing a lot of lately. "You're just that good," he says. "Counsel has no objections at all."

His thumb brushes over her side, just shy of where her stomach is starting to soften. She hasn't gained any weight yet but already her body is undergoing a seismic shift. She wonders if she'd notice it if she wasn't so attuned to how her body normally is.

She smiles and reaches for Harvey's belt. "Let's get this shower moving. The last thing we need is one of the kids busting back in because he forgot something and catching us in the middle of something."

"Ahhh, parent sex," Harvey whines, making a face before breaking into a grin.

Britta snorts. "I'm hoping that Rowan's abject horror means he won't be trying anything first-hand for a while yet."

Harvey raises an eyebrow. "That's a lot of hope in the face of teenage hormones."

"I know, but they're fifteen. And it seems like only yesterday they were eight years old." She sighs. "I always thought 'they grow up so fast' was just something people said. As it turns out, not so much."

Harvey's hands go still. "Almost everyone in Gotham grows up too fast."

"That's true." Everyone Britta knows sure has. Well, except Bruce, maybe. But then he never had to, not with his big sister to watch over him, so maybe it's understandable that he went in the opposite direction - Gotham's Peter Pan. Harvey's definitely one of the kids that grew up faster than he should have, though. Britta has never pressed him for the story, but he gets tense enough when certain topics come up that Britta has put the pieces together on her own.

She untucks his shirt, unbuckles his belt, and reaches for his buttons while he just... stands there, with his hands on her. She's not entirely sure where he goes when he's like this, but it's nowhere good. He sighs when she starts unbuttoning his shirt, finally moving to catch her wrists gently. "I'm not really… in the mood anymore. I'm sorry."

"I know," Britta says softly. "It's okay. Let's just take a shower and get changed."

A little bit of the haunted look leaves his face. "Yeah. That sounds good."

She kisses him on the tip of his nose, and he cracks a smile.

They shower and change into comfortable clothes, and the rest of the afternoon is spent with the television on. They take turns providing awful fake translations for the Chinese soap operas on television, and when the boys come back smiling and smelling like chlorine, Harvey seems to be in a much better mood.

The kids' return is heralded by the loud thump of a fist against the door and Jason yelling, "I won!"

"You tripped me!" Dick says indignantly as the door opens. "That's not playing fair."

"Your face isn't fair," Jason shoots back, snorting at the comeback with all the confidence of a twelve-year-old in his own hilarity. It's kind of nice to see him acting his age for once.

"Well, _your_ face-" Dick starts.

"Welcome back," Harvey cuts in smoothly. "How was the pool?"

Rowan sighs. "I dragged Heckle and Jeckle away before we could get kicked out."

"It was great," Dick adds. "There's an awesome diving board, and the lifeguard let us do flips."

Jason nods. "We had a contest."

"Which nobody won," Rowan says. "Because we had to leave, because somebody got into an argument with somebody else about how many points a double flip should get, and the lifeguard started looking anxious."

"I won," Dick and Jason say in unison.

Britta laughs. "I think Rowan wins, for making sure we don't get thrown out before we even settle in."

"Fine," Dick huffs, throwing himself across the sofa. "Rowan can win."

Rowan raises both hands in victory. "Dibs on first shower."

Jason sits on Dick's feet, then tries not to laugh when Dick very clearly wiggles his toes. Dick sticks his tongue out, and Jason rolls his eyes and announces, "I claim second shower. Pools make me itchy."

Dick sighs dramatically. "Fine," he says, drawing the word out until Jason is fighting a grin. "I'll just stay here until it's my turn."

Britta casts a glance at Harvey and sees him biting his lip. She rolls her eyes at Dick's dramatic streak, shaking her head, and Harvey snorts. Sometimes all you can do is laugh so you won't go crazy.

Dick and Jason are quick to join in on the Chinese soap opera fun while Rowan showers. It's easy enough to rotate the boys through after that, so they make it to their dinner reservation on time. It's a minor miracle, especially considering Dick has steadily been developing a romantic relationship with his hair ever since he turned fifteen, so he spends almost as long in front of the mirror as the other two do in the shower combined.

Dinner is uneventful, which is nice, but Britta has the distinct sense that the boys are ganging up on her, especially when they get back to the hotel and they immediately crowd onto the sofa and look at her expectantly. The Robin name has never been more appropriate, with the way they all cock their heads.

"So," Rowan says. There's a good chance that they elected him spokesperson. "Why'd we come to Hong Kong with you?"

"Because it would be illegal to leave the three of you behind," Harvey says smoothly.

"Right," Rowan says, nodding. "And why else?"

Britta takes Harvey's hand and bites the bullet. "Well, I had to come over here and liaise with Wayne International, but I won't be able to travel in March."

"Why?" Rowan asks, just as Jason nods and says, "Too pregnant to travel by then."

Dick and Rowan turn in unison, twin stares boring into him.

Jason just shrugs. “What?”

Britta can't help but stare a little bit, too. "How did you..."

"You didn't order lobster at Antonio's," he says flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Seriously? She had the vegetarian option, and you figured out she was pregnant?" Dick looks like he can't decide if he wants to be impressed or… nope, that's impressed.

Jason shrugs again. "She pulled us all out of practice for a week, we're taking a last-minute vacation, Harvey dropped everything to come along-"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, kid wonder," Rowan says before Jason can spill something that lets Harvey make the final connection between their "baseball training" sessions and the spandex crowd. Britta makes a mental note to say yes the next time Rowan asks her to buy beer. He's responsible, and he only ever asks her when Roy's supposed to be coming over for a weekend, so it's not like the kids are going to drive anywhere.

"I'm due the week after spring break," Britta says.

Dick grins. "So when's the wedding? Do I get to be a flower girl? Does Jay get to recite a poem?"

"We were thinking Christmas break," Harvey says smoothly as Jason launches peanuts at Dick's head. Britta isn't going to ask where he got them, since the last time she saw peanuts was on the flight over, and she doesn't particularly want to think about Jason keeping them in his pockets for the past several hours.

Rowan nods after a moment. "Less likely to get paparazzi sneaking into the ceremony if they'd freeze their nuts off taking pictures through the windows."

Britta clears her throat and shifts her chair closer to Jason. "We were thinking about setting a court date for the new year," she says, laying her hand on the back of his neck.

"How's that sound to you, kid?" Harvey adds.

Jason shrugs. "It's okay."

Dick shifts in his seat, ridiculous grin sliding off his face. Rowan grabs him by the sleeve and drags him up. "Okay, awesome. We're going to go check out the gym downstairs. See you later." They scramble out the door in a four-legged pile, and then there are three.

“It can still be just me if you want,” Britta says softly, squeezing the back of Jason’s neck. “If you need more time to get to know Harvey, it’s okay.”

"You're moving in, right? With the wedding, and the baby. So what's it matter?"

"It's allowed to matter to you," Harvey says. "Britta and I aren't a package deal, not if you don't want us to be. I'd like for both of us to adopt you, Jason, but you have a say in it, and I'll respect your decision."

Jason stares him down like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Harvey doesn't blink.

"I remember what being in the system was like," Harvey continues. "Gotham isn't an easy place to be at the bottom of the ladder." It's one of the things that Harvey doesn't like to talk about, the time between when his father died and when he turned eighteen. Britta has picked up on the not-a-good-time vibes, but this is the first time she's hearing anything about it out loud.

Jason nods. "Yeah, I guess."

"But getting out, following a new set of rules... that's not so easy, either. I don't want to be the one who makes things more difficult for you," Harvey says. "Whatever you decide about me, you're still going to be the baby's big brother, and I'm going to be its dad. We'll be family. But you don't have to trust me until you're ready."

Jason looks at the ground and mumbles something. Harvey glances at Britta, but she shakes her head; she didn't hear it, either. "What's that?"

"I don't want to make stuff harder for _you_ ," Jason says again. "I mean, with the new baby - and you already have Dick and Rowan for keeps…"

Britta takes Jason's hand. "I have _you_ for keeps, too."

"But…"

"No buts," she says firmly. "I haven't changed my mind, Jason, and I don't love you any less just because I got pregnant."

"You're already a little brother," Harvey adds. "We want you to be a big brother."

Jason's lip wobbles, and Britta acts fast. He hates crying in front of people, so she draws him in for a hug and lets him hide against her shoulder.

"You're sure?" he chokes out. "I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if - if-"

"I'm sure," Britta says fiercely. "We're both sure."

Harvey shifts closer but he doesn't touch Jason. He's always careful not to, unless Jason can see him and give the okay. It breaks Britta's heart sometimes that they're both so careful around each other - that they see something fragile in each other. "You're a good kid," Harvey says softly. "You're going to be great."

Jason doesn't raise his head, but he reaches out towards Harvey. Harvey doesn't hesitate to squeeze his hand.

"I don't want to read a poem," Jason says after a minute. "At the wedding. Love poems are weird."

"No poems," Harvey promises, grinning crookedly. "Not even a haiku."

Jason shifts to look at him. "There aren't any wedding hakius."

"Well, we won't write one just to have you recite it," Harvey says. He drops Jason's hand and holds out his little finger. "Pinky swear."

Jason hooks his pinky with Harvey's, and they shake. "It's a deal."

-0-

For some crazy reason, Britta thought that things would calm down a little once Jason turned thirteen and the boys started school again. She definitely should have known better, because between the wedding planning, Harvey's campaign, and baby things, life is more hectic than ever. Even before Hong Kong the tabloids were hounding them for an "exclusive" about the wedding date; now that it's set, they have Britta on bump watch. As if she wasn't already paranoid enough, now she has to be twice as careful about how she dresses because there's an actual bump to hide. She won't be able to hide it by the time the wedding rolls around, but the longer she can put off the media storm, the better. That's one lesson Britta learned only too well from the shitstorm with Kim Kardashian.

The biggest blessing so far has been that Alfred and Ethel are working seamlessly together on the wedding plans, so at least Britta doesn't have to worry about floral arrangements and color schemes while she's trying to figure out how not to lose her board of directors when she drops the baby bomb at WE. Bruce helps too, albeit unintentionally. Every time he makes page six is a time they aren't struggling to find something to write about _her_. Britta figures he's her ace in the hole in the board room, too; he's the other choice of a Wayne to lead the company, and she knows exactly how popular Bruce isn't with them.

At least the Bat side of things is taken care of for the time being. Huntress had been gleeful at the chance to wear the cape and cowl for a while, and she and Barbara have been working well together since the return from Hong Kong. Britta tries to keep up with their caseload, at least in a general sense so she can offer advice, but centuries of stories don't lie: the first trimester is brutally tiring. Dick and Rowan have largely taken over Jason's training, which is both a godsend and a lot of trouble. On the one hand, Britta can't teach him anything hands-on right now, and the twins will be able to get Jason's flexibility up; on the other, she misses working with all three of them, and she's pretty sure that Dick at least is teaching Jason things he doesn't need to know. Things like how to play the piano with his toes, and other party tricks that have driven Britta crazy for the last eight years and made the Grayson twins the darlings of Gotham society.

The one constant in her life is Harvey. Officially he hasn't moved in yet, because voters love to be hypocrites about morality and apparently living in sin is far worse than taking a bribe. But he's always here when she gets home from work, and he always takes an hour out of his day to sit with her and just talk. He's always got time for the boys, too; Dick and Rowan love him, and Jason is warming up to him quickly. Britta's not sure what they bond over, but she's walked in on the two of them talking in the study a few times, and they always look sadder than she wants to think closely about.

Harvey is their rock, which is why she's startled the day she gets to the Manor and finds him yelling down the phone at top volume. Britta exchanges a glance with Alfred, who just hands her a glass of water to bring to the study.

"You think I trust a pissant like you more than I trust my own campaign manager?" Harvey shouts as she steps into the room. "I know what you're planning to print, and I'm telling you it's not going to happen."

He looks furious in a way that Britta has never seen before. He tugs at his tie, which is already hanging loosely around his neck, and shoves his hand back through his hair, eyes narrowing at whoever's on the other end of the line. "Fuck the First Amendment. He's a _child_. His records are sealed."

Britta's blood runs cold and her fingers tighten around the glass in her hand. Harvey's got a stance on children's rights, yeah, but the way he's reacting to this is a sure sign that the issue is closer to home, and neither Dick nor Rowan have any records to yell over. Then Harvey laughs, and it's the worst sound she's heard in a long time. "Oh sure, what time do you want to do the interview? Of course I'm not serious, you nitwit. If you write one single word I'll bring the Commissioner down on your head and your access to the courts will be revoked faster than you can blink."

There's a moment of silence before Harvey says, "Okay, then. I'm calling your bluff," and slams the phone back into the cradle.

She takes a deep breath and makes sure to drag her feet against the carpet as she walks towards him. "Harvey?"

He kicks at the desk chair, sending it flying. "How the hell did they get access to sealed juvenile records? He just turned _thirteen years old_!"

"Jason," Britta says, keeping her tone neutral through sheer force of will. "One of the papers-"

"It takes journalistic integrity to be called a newspaper," Harvey sneers. "Tabloid, maybe. Rag."

Oh god. "We have to tell him. If there's a chance it'll get out, we can't let him be blindsided."

"It won't get out, believe me," Harvey growls.

"Harvey," she says again, quieter this time. "I know you'll do everything you can, but the media really loves dragging anything Wayne-related through the mud. We need to prepare Jason for the fact that this might get out, sealed records or no."

"So we tell him. But either way, this ends tonight. Let's see how they like being the Commissioner's first test case for conspiracy to commit child endangerment."

Britta frowns. "What?"

"We're working on a task force, integrating new anti-bullying statutes. Child versus child would be local; adult versus child would be egregious enough to go federal." Harvey smiles at her, all teeth. "We don't have to prove intent to cause harm; all we have to do under the new law is prove a reasonable expectation of harm. And anyone who's been on the internet for more than an hour knows that."

Britta raises an eyebrow. "Get a warrant for their internet history..."

"Exactly."

"Wow."

"I'm done letting Gotham's underclass be held hostage," Harvey says, thumping his fist on the desk. "Jason did what he had to do to survive, because the city failed him. And I'm not letting anyone use that against him."

Britta has to blink a little against the sudden onslaught of emotion, but after a moment she smiles. "You've got my vote."

Harvey sags, slumping where he stands like his suit had just transformed into chainmail. "I just... what's the point of all this if we can't protect the kids?"

"We're doing everything we can," Britta says. She reaches out to lay her hand on his shoulder and he lets her, doesn't protest when she takes the last step forward and slides her arms around him. "You talk to Gordon, and I'll talk to Jason. We can compare notes later."

Harvey squeezes her tightly, and she can tell that he knows: she has the harder job by far. She'd promised Jason a long time ago that she would never hold his past against him, and she'll stick to that until her dying day. She's just hoping that she can get him to understand that not everyone has his best interests at heart, and that this isn't about him, not really. She sighs as she realizes that out of everyone in the Manor, Jason's probably the one who understands all of that the best anyway.

"Good luck," Harvey says, pressing a kiss to her temple before letting her go. "I'll be in here."

"You too," Britta says, turning and heading into the hallway. Jason should be busy with homework now, so she turns and heads for the library. There's an overstuffed chair in the back that he likes to sit in to read.

"So, what masterpiece of American literature have they saddled you with this week?" she asks as she enters the room.

Jason's sigh is audible. "George Masters did a book report on Captain Underpants."

Britta snorts. "Hey, that means you'll probably get bonus points for doing yours on actual literature, right?"

"Yeah, if they believe I actually read it and didn't just copy everything from sparknotes."

"They haven't accused you of anything like that, have they?" Briita frowns. "That's a serious accusation, Jason, and it's discrimination to boot. If they're tossing things like that at you, we'll fight it."

"Whoa, calm yourself, momma bear." Jason closes his book, sets it on the floor, and stands up on the chair, his elbows resting on the oak back. Alfred would have a fit if he saw Jason putting shoes on the furniture. "My old school sucked, before I dropped out, but this one's okay so far."

Britta takes a deep breath and counts to five. Jason's not wrong; the hormones that come along with pregnancy have made her more protective than ever. And if she thinks too long about the fact that his last school didn't report him missing when he stopped showing up to class, even though he was only eleven, it does bad things to her blood pressure.

"I'm okay, I promise," Jason says, vaulting over the back of his chair and standing by Britta's side. He looks like he's not sure what to do, so it takes him a moment to awkwardly pat her arm. "Nobody's accusing me of anything."

She sweeps him into a hug and just holds him for a while, because god, he has no idea about the bomb she has to drop on him. Jason has to know that something's going on, but he just hugs her back for as long as she holds on. When she finally pulls back, he looks up at her with a serious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Harvey's working on something for you, but in case it doesn't work we decided to be up-front."

"That doesn't sound good."

She sits him down on the couch and takes his hand, if only so he can't run until she's done talking. "Someone got a copy of your arrest record."

Jason squeezes her hand hard and goes very still. "I thought that was locked down."

"It's supposed to be. Harvey's figuring out what happened right now, and somebody's going to be sued to the depths of Gotham Harbor."

"I can't…" Jason starts. He doesn't continue, so Britta chances letting go of his hand to wrap her arm around his shoulder. He leans in stiffly. "I don't. Want anyone to know about that stuff. I'm not… I wish I hadn't…"

"Jason…"

"Do you know what's in there?"

Britta sighs. "Assault and theft, mostly."

Jason's laugh is bitter. "Is that what they're calling it these days?" he mocks. "Assault, yeah. Preventing some john from assaulting me, that's assault. And it's totally thievery to take what I'm fucking owed. But nobody ever believes the kid hooker, not against the upstanding citizen who's twenty bucks lighter."

Britta already knew it; she knows the area Jason was arrested in is notorious for underage prostitution. But hearing him spit it out like his throat is full of poison and he has to get it out... she wants to burn Gotham to the ground.

"I believe you," she says, keeping her voice quiet. She wants to apologize, but she's not sure what for; for not being there sooner, for the justice system failing so utterly, for everything that's gone wrong in the poor kid's life. It wouldn't change anything, though, so she repeats herself and hopes that she can at least give Jason the chance to start over. "I believe you, Jason."

"I can't - you can't let them-" Jason chokes up, clapping a hand tight over his mouth. 

"It won't make it to publication." It's an empty promise and they both know it, but if Britta tells him anything else right now, he looks like he'll fall apart.

"I just want to forget about it," he says roughly. "I don't ever have to do that again, and I want to not think about it."

Britta squeezes his shoulder. "I know. And I'm sorry this is happening to you. It's not your fault."

Jason shudders and chokes back a sob. 

"It's _not_ ," she repeats. "If anything it's my fault, and Harvey's. We're the ones who decided to live a public life."

"What good does it do, making me look like your bad decision?" Jason asks shakily.

Britta really doesn't want to answer that question. She knows exactly what they're aiming for: they want to call Harvey's judgment into question ahead of the election next year. They want to "prove" he doesn't belong in the upper echelons of Gotham society, that he doesn't deserve power or influence, because he's not from the right kind of family. Harvey's association with her is being framed as a social-climbing move, and nothing irritates Gotham's old guard like upward mobility - especially when that upward mobility is coupled with the power to lock them up for white collar crime. But Jason really doesn't need to have that on his shoulders. He's thirteen years old.

"It doesn't matter why they're doing it. What matters is that they're wrong, and you're a minor. They're breaking the law in a dozen different ways, and violating journalistic ethics in a couple dozen more."

Jason's frown gets deeper, but he's starting to look more confused than upset. "If they print it, they're breaking the law," he states, and she nods. "But they still want to print it? Even though Harvey's a _lawyer_?"

"I think they were hoping he cared more about his image than he does about you," Britta explains. "They counted on him not wanting to look like he's silencing the press."

"Because that'll hurt the campaign."

"If you spin it wrong, yes. But Harvey's made a platform out of children's rights. Don't worry; Ethel's on top of this, too."

Jason bites his lip. "I don't want Harvey to lose his job because of me."

"Okay, two things, kiddo," Britta says, moving so she can look down at Jason. "One, you come before jobs. Mine, Harvey's, anyone's. Family first." She waits until Jason nods before going on. "And two, between Harvey, Ethel, and Commissioner Gordon, the press doesn't stand a chance."

"But-"

"Okay, one last thing: even if Harvey doesn't get re-elected, that'll be the will of the people. It's how politics goes, and that's nobody's fault."

Jason exhales shakily and slumps against her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The whole mess. You never have all this with Dick and Rowan."

Britta raises an eyebrow. "You think they're _less_ trouble than you?"

Jason's face scrunches a little, and he finally cracks a grin. "Okay, maybe that was dumb."

"I'll say. When was the last time you saw either of them do homework voluntarily?"

"Rowan did his history report," Jason defends. "The one on, what was it, antebellum Virginia."

"Dick bet him that he couldn't finish it before Dick did a thousand curls," Britta says dryly. "And then Alfred found them and decided that he needed Dick's help with cleaning the chandelier, since we all know those are his fingerprints up there."

Jason snorts. "Yeah, that's true."

"And I've never had to pick you up from school on Valentine's Day because you caused a fistfight."

Jason wrinkles his nose. "I've been in fights."

"No, kiddo, they _caused_ the fight. When they got thirty valentines each." Britta has to bite back a smile. Several junior high romances crashed and burned that day, and she'd had to keep the boys out of school for a week to keep the peace.

"I promise to never be so pretty that people fight over me," Jason says, snickering. 

"I'll hold you to that," Britta says waggling her pinkie finger.

Jason wraps his pinkie around hers. "I promise," he repeats.

"Great. So, is it hot chocolate and cartoons time, or do you think you can focus on homework?"

He glances over at the chair he'd been sitting in. "Cartoons," he says decisively. "I've already read _Flowers for Algernon_ , anyway."

Alfred is only too happy to bring them drinks and snacks, even though dinner is only an hour or so away now. They settle in to watch Fraggle Rock; even though yeah, technically, it's not a cartoon, the characters and flimsy plots are cartoonish enough that it still counts.

Harvey walks in about halfway through, and Jason turns to him before Britta can say anything. His shoulders are squared, and he takes a deep breath. "How'd it go?"

"The editor is writing us a formal apology for even considering running the piece, and Gordon's given us the option of pressing charges against the reporter responsible." Harvey leans down and ruffles Jason's hair. "It's up to you whether we proceed."

Jason's shoulders slump immediately, but he's got a huge smile on his face. "Really? They're not gonna talk about it?"

"Nope." Harvey smiles back. "And if you want, I'll sue the pants off 'em for you."

"I'll think about it," Jason mumbles, turning back to Fraggle Rock. Britta can't say she'd blame him if he wants to avoid any more chances of bad publicity.

"No pressure either way," Harvey promises. 

The three of them spend some quality time ignoring the elephant in the room after that, until Dick and Rowan come clattering in to announce that dinner is ready, "Come on! We're _dying_."

"Wasting away," Rowan adds. "We're gonna start disappearing when we turn sideways."

"Yeah, I _wish_ ," Jason retorts. 

Dick vaults over the couch, attempting to sit in his lap and get him in a bear hug. "Love you too, baby brother."

"Ew, get off! You're all sweaty."

Rowan makes a choking noise. Britta really doesn't want to know what joke she's missing.

Dick jumps to his feet like he's been pinched, and judging from the suspiciously angelic look on Jason's face that's probably not far from the truth.

Dinner with three teenage boys is never dull, she'll give them that.

-0-

Jason mulls it over for a week before telling Harvey that he isn't really interested in prosecuting the reporter. He doesn't elaborate, but there's a look in his eyes that Britta has seen behind Harvey's own, something that tells her they just want to move on and leave the past where it is. Which is why she's a little surprised when Harvey sits her down and tells her he's been looking into finding his birth parents.

"What?"

He shrugs. "I just… I have no idea who they were, where I come from. I don't ever want to be surprised by my past, especially now that we're having a baby."

Britta takes his hand and squeezes it lightly, an _I'm here_ gesture. "Okay, that makes sense. Where do we start?"

"I'm not sure. My file is sealed.”

"Well, we can do some research," Britta says, thinking out loud. "We have your birth date, and you were born at Gotham Mercy. There has to be a way to cross-reference and find out how many births the hospital registered that day, that kind of thing. We can rule out who you're not, at least, and work from there."

It doesn't take long to figure out that narrowing the field will take a while.

"An average of one hundred and sixty male babies _per day_ ," Harvey says despairingly.

"That's for the whole state."

"It's still a lot!"

It is a lot to sort through, but it's not insurmountable. They can narrow it down to those born in Middlesex County, and then weed out the ones whose records don't show an adoption. That leaves them with only about a dozen records to follow up.

"Alright," Harvey says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Now what?"

"I'm not sure," Britta says, frowning. "You don't have anything from the hospital, anything that your birth mother might have given to your parents?"

"I don't think so. My parents weren't exactly what you'd call sentimentalists."

Britta nods, not really surprised. She knows that the Dents hadn't left Harvey much when they'd shuffled off their mortal coils anyway, but it was worth asking. "So we've got a dozen files and nowhere to go from here."

Harvey sighs. "How many of those were born at Mercy?"

"Seven."

"Then I guess we give those seven files to a private detective."

"Do you have someone in mind?" Britta's itching to just go downstairs and use her own system, but Harvey's going through so much already. She doesn't want to force him to choose between her and his career, and he'll feel honor-bound to do exactly that if he finds out about her vigilante activities.

"Not really. I don't know, maybe Ethel knows someone." Harvey turns his hand over and laces his fingers with hers.

"If she doesn't, she'll be able to find someone in no time," Britta says. Ethel is the scary kind of efficient, and if Britta hadn't done as much checking into the woman's background as she had, she'd be worried about mob connections. As it is, Ethel's just that good.

Harvey's quiet for a minute before squeezing her hand. "What about Barbara Gordon?"

Britta blinks and keeps herself calm. There's no way he knows, she reminds herself. "The Commissioner's daughter?"

"She's smart, she's discreet, and she could use the pocket money," Harvey says. "Plus she's got access to the computer systems at Gotham U. She might be able to knock a few names off the list, at least."

"If you're comfortable talking to her, then go for it. This is about what you need, Harvey." And Babs is the perfect person to get the job done. Britta misses working with her, and only the knowledge that Huntress is out there watching Babs' back keeps her out of the field.

"I think I'll talk to her about it," Harvey says. "See if she's interested, at least. If not, well, I'll ask Ethel."

"That sounds like a good idea," Britta agrees. "Should we ask her to stop by, or do you want to meet her for coffee or something?"

"I'd rather keep this as private as possible."

Britta nods. Considering the press has already come after their family once recently, she can understand him wanting to avoid eavesdropping. "Let's see if she can come over at some point this week," she suggests. "Set up a time, let Alfred know, that kind of thing."

Harvey manages a small smile. "I just - I want the baby to be okay. If I can find out who my parents were, if I can get their medical records..."

"I get it."

"Thanks," he says, relief evident in his tone. "I just… I can't imagine doing this with anyone else by my side."

When they talk to Babs, she claims to be free Thursday night, although Britta's pretty sure that means Calico is going to help cover Batgirl's territory. That's fine; the girl isn't as trained as Britta would like her to be, but she's got skill, and she's also got Catwoman on call. That gives Alfred a couple of days to figure out exactly which of Babs' favorite snacks to prepare, and by the time she walks in on Thursday evening, the scones and spice tea are ready to serve.

"Wow, you really know how to win over a broke college student," Babs jokes when she sees the spread.

Harvey gives her a winning smile. "I don't want to say we're buttering you up," he says, gesturing to the scones, "but… well."

Babs groans. "You've been hanging out with Dick too much."

"Hey!" Dick calls out, affronted. "I resemble that remark." He steals four scones and runs for the stairs before Alfred can catch him. Rowan looks at Babs, shrugs, and follows Dick out of the room. Jason just rolls his eyes, pours himself a cup of tea, and retires to his reading nook. And he wonders why Dick sometimes calls him little grandpa.

"So," Harvey begins once Babs has her food. "I'd like to hire you for a research project, but it's something I need to keep out of the public eye for as long as I can."

Babs raises an eyebrow. "Skeletons in the closet, Mr. Dent? Why bother poking them if it's an election year?"

"Because they have imminent relevance," Harvey replies smoothly, raising an eyebrow at her in return.

Britta shakes her head. "Alright, Cagney and Lacey, let's just lay our cards on the table. Harvey would like to identify his birth parents so we can have medical history for the baby. I’m due in April."

"Ah. Congratulations," Babs says, leaning back. "I'm assuming your birth records are sealed, Mr. Dent, or you wouldn't need me."

"Got it in one." Harvey leans over and pulls the paperwork they'd found out of his briefcase. "We managed to narrow it down to these."

"Seven files," Babs comments. "I assume you've cross-referenced with national death records?"

"We have," Britta confirms. "Trust me, we started out with a lot more than that."

"One hundred and sixty-three men in this state share my birthday. Really makes a soul feel unique." Harvey takes a sip of his tea and manages a smile.

"But how many of them are the reigning district attorney of Gotham?" Babs returns, smiling back. "I'll do what I can, and I'll keep it between the three of us." She pauses. "I'm assuming there's some sort of non-disclosure agreement you'd like me to sign, too."

Harvey breaks into an all-out grin. "We'll make a lawyer of you yet."

She grins back. "That might be in the cards, Mr. Dent. Let's see the paperwork."

Babs reads through the confidentiality agreement with laser focus, then signs it with a flourish. She tucks the files away in her bag, then turns to Britta with a bright smile. "So, how are things with you and tiny Dent-to-be?"

"My usual stylist is worried about getting sued if the baby inhales too much second-hand hairspray," Britta complains, "and she flat-out refuses to talk to me about highlights. I don't suppose you could recommend someone less... finicky."

Harvey chuckles and leans over to take Britta's hand. "If you ladies are going to talk shop, then I'm going to excuse myself. I've got some cases that I should be looking into." He squeezes Britta's hand before dropping it and reaching out to shake Barbara's. "Thank you, Miss Gordon."

They wait until Harvey's closed the door and is long gone before activating a signal-jammer and _really_ starting to talk shop.

Britta leans back in her chair. "So, how are things going with Helena?" Babs blushes, and oh, that's interesting. Britta raises an eyebrow and grins a little. "I meant in the field."

"Oh, um, we're good together. We work well together," Babs quickly corrects.

"Do you now," Britta says blandly.

"Her Batman is more violent than your version, but we have a - a deal. I keep her in line." Babs' neck is now as crimson as her face.

"I'm not asking," Britta says, cutting Babs a bit of a break. "You're working well with Catwoman and Calico too, I see."

Babs clears her throat, obviously happy about the change of subject. "They're a good team. Fast, and smart. Calico has underground contacts that a girl her age really shouldn't."

"She can thank her father for that," Britta says flatly. 

"Are you finally going to clue me in about who that is?"

Britta snorts. "Interesting choice of words."

Babs' eyes narrow as she thinks. "Riddler doesn't have any kids," she says after a moment. "Someone else with clues."

"A master of them, one might say," Britta adds. "Well, one might if one were him. I don't think anyone else really ever thought he was all that great."

Babs groans. "Cluemaster. You _really_ need to get out of the house more. Dick's puntastic habits are infecting your brain."

"He'd be thrilled to hear that," Britta says dryly. "But yeah, she's the Cluemaster's kid. Got into the game to trip her dad up, as I understand it. She's a good kid."

"What about her mother?"

Britta sighs. "She's in rehab."

"Ah." 

"Pretty much," Britta agrees. "Catwoman's good for Calico. And Calico's good for Catwoman, too." Selina has mostly gotten out of the thievery circle since Stephanie started as Calico, and Britta can't be anything but happy about that.

She looks Babs in the eye and asks, "Are you confident you have a handle on the current cases? I know it can't have been easy since the boys cut back their hours."

Babs shrugs. "We've got it handled," she says. "If something big comes up, we'll need to figure something else out, but we've got the day-to-day stuff covered."

Britta nods. "Good. Dick and Rowan need to remember that school matters."

"I'll remind them myself if they start to forget," Babs says severely. "Better yet, tell them I'm perfectly willing to tutor them if they start falling behind." There's a wicked gleam in her eyes, and Britta can't help but laugh. 

"I'll do just that," she promises.

-0-

Britta is really, really glad that she doesn't have to go to Johnny Viti's wedding. The amount of people at that wedding that she has either already beaten the holy hell out of or has plans to beat the holy hell out of in the future are higher than she generally aims for in her societal functions, and of the few people she _hasn't_ had occasion to beat up, Harvey has tried to bring charges against pretty much all of them. Besides, it's good for Bruce to do something that could be called a familial obligation every once in a while. It’s a better decision for everyone involved that he had volunteered to represent the Waynes at Viti's wedding when the invitation had come. Britta still has no idea how he convinced his date to go with him, though.

"Come on, you can tell me," Britta says as the two of them pick through her necklaces for something to wear. "Did you lose a bet?"

Selina snorts. "Only one with myself. How does this look?"

She holds up a pendant on a fine gold chain, and Britta shakes her head. "Not flashy enough." Not for attending an old-school Italian wedding. Britta pulls out another necklace and a matching set of drop earrings. "What about these? And come on, Selina, spill."

Selina puts the earrings on and peers at herself in the mirror. "You know I applied for a bank loan to expand the animal shelters."

"Yes," Britta replies, dragging it out. "Tell me that my little brother didn't tell you he'd fund you if you went out with him. Tell me that didn't really happen."

"He asked me out and I said no. He funded the project anyway."

Britta sits back a little. "Huh."

"I kept expecting him to ask again, at the next meeting, but he never did." Selina shrugs.

"Wait, wait," Britta says, leaning in again. "Did _you_ ask _him_ out?"

Selina smiles like the cat that ate the canary. "I know you're biased because he's your brother, but there aren't many women in Gotham who'd turn down a chance with a man who looks like _that_."

"Oh god, spare me," Britta groans, putting a hand to her stomach. "I don't think I can take it in my delicate condition." Selina snorts, and Britta sighs. "Just... don't hurt him."

Selina rolls her eyes.

"No, I mean don't maim him. You can punch him, but no permanent injuries please. No matter how much you might want to. He _is_ my baby brother."

"On my honor, I will try," Selina says, flashing her a smile. "I have to admit, though, I didn't make it past Brownies in Girl Scouts."

"If you end up cracking the whip on him, literally? Just don't tell me."

"Whose demise are the two of you plotting now?" Harvey says as he steps into the room.

"Selina is taking Bruce to the Viti wedding," Brita says, raising an eyebrow. "I'm asking for as few details as possible, for now and for the future."

"Ah." Harvey gets a sour look on his face. Britta knows that the idea of publicly rubbing elbows with Carmine Falcone and his nephew, for any reason, runs counter to his every instinct, but it's part of Gotham life.

"What do you think, Harv?" Selina asks, turning around and cocking a hip. "Is my jewelry fancy enough to make me shine tonight?"

He puts a hand on his chin, like he's honestly assessing her, and then he raises an eyebrow. "I don't think you need the help."

"Flatterer," she says, clearly delighted. "I'm definitely sticking with this set, Britt. I'll bring them back tomorrow afternoon, as long as someone will be here to get them."

Britta grins. Harvey and Selina have danced through the same activist circles ever since community college, and when they get going they sound like they're going to turn Gotham into a real city of the future or die trying. "I'll be home. It might be worth calling my cell before you head over here, though; my napping schedule is pretty erratic."

Harvey leans down and kisses Britta on the forehead. "Are you causing trouble for your mother already?" he says, glancing down at her stomach.

"I'm just stocking up on sleep now," she says, grinning up at him. "Apparently that's going to be hard to come by in a few months."

"Okay, I need to get out of here before I vomit rainbows," Selina says, heading for the door.

"Rainbows would be a nice change," Britta says thoughtfully, grinning when Selina makes a face. "Have fun tonight, but don't tell me about it at all."

Selina grins. "I'll think about it," she promises as she walks out.

Harvey sits down on the bed next to Britta. "Actually, I came up here to tell you that I have to head out, too. I left some paperwork at the office."

He really needs to work on his poker face, but Britta just nods and lets the lie slide. It's not like she doesn't have secrets of her own, and if Harvey's out of the house it gives her the chance to slip down to the Batcave and check in with Babs. "Should I have Alfred hold supper?"

"No," he says after a moment. "I'll probably get some work done while I'm there. I don't want to make you and the boys wait." He leans in to kiss her cheek. "I'll just heat something up when I get home."

"Okay," Britta replies. "I'll make sure Alfred puts a plate together for you."

Supper with the boys is suspiciously quiet, so Britta rounds them up and herds them down to the Cave. She's still supervising training even if she isn't participating, so she sends Dick and Rowan to spot each other on the weights while she walks Jason through a kata that had looked shaky last week.

Babs shows up about half an hour in and settles herself at the computer to run Harvey's files. Once Jason is working on running through the kata himself, Britta wanders over. "How goes the search?"

Babs sighs. "I have a name to follow up but it's not making any sense. The only Nyssa Raatko I can find was born a couple of centuries ago, so it's not exactly a plausible alias."

"Strange," Britta says, frowning. "Why use the name of someone who's been dead for hundreds of years? What purpose does that serve?"

"Red herring, maybe? To misdirect our attention?"

"To what, though?" Britta asks. "Usually misdirects are meant to point you at something specific. This… doesn't."

"True." Babs taps a finger against her lower lip, and clicks over to another window with her other hand. "I think I'll set that file aside for now and run the other leads to ground. Narrowing my focus too early won't do anyone any good."

"Good plan," Britta agrees. "You can always come back to it." When she turns around again, Dick and Rowan have disappeared from the machine weights. She raises an eyebrow at Jason, who points at the ceiling.

"I think they're playing tag in the stalactites."

"Of course they are."

She sighs and raises her fingers to her lips. Jason claps his hands over his ears just as she gives a shrill whistle. "Whatever muscles you _think_ you're building up there, they're not the ones I told you to work on," she yells, so they can't pretend they didn't hear her.

There's a dramatic sigh from the shadows, and then Dick drops down near the free weights. Rowan slides down the tail of the dinosaur a moment later. "Sorry, B."

"The first one of you who gets back on-task doesn't have to finish patrol reports this weekend."

Rowan vaults across the cave and somehow beats Dick to the machine weights, even though Dick is right next to them. Hatred of sitting still is a powerful motivator for the Flying Graysons.

She watches them much more carefully as they work their way through the tasks she'd set before them, and after half an hour, she calls time. "Okay, free spar. Jason and Dick against Rowan." No need to let Rowan get _too_ smug in his victory.

Dick whoops and dives for Rowan, who evades him neatly. He's apparently not expecting Jason to be as fast as he is, though, because he hits the ground as he's turning courtesy of Jason tripping him up. Britta bites back a smile, but it's a lost cause when she hears Babs start laughing.

The boys tumble around for a while, and Britta's glad to see that Dick and Jason work well together. Rowan mostly holds his own once he realizes that Jason is actually a threat, but they all get some lucky tags in.

"Okay, change up. Dick, you're it."

They switch tacks instantly: Jason goes from standing behind Dick to tackling him around the middle, and Dick goes down with a huffing sound. Babs is still laughing, and Britta isn't trying to hold her smile back anymore.

"Alright, stop," she calls out after ten minutes. Dick and Rowan untangle from the wrestling stance they'd just been in, and stand to attention. Jason, bright kid that he is, crouches in preparation for an attack. "Jason's it."

"Hi-ya!" Jason shouts, and kicks out Rowan's knee. Rowan topples into Dick, and they both go down. Jason dances back, slipping into a defensive stance, and that's it, now Britta's laughing just as much as Babs is.

"Try and catch me, ya big boobs!" Jason taunts as they get to their feet.

Rowan gives Dick a look and signals quickly, and Dick's face splits into a grin. Jason tenses, watching them, but he doesn't stand a chance. Dick runs towards Rowan, who catches him and flips him back at Jason. Dick sails through the air in a neat arc, landing solidly behind him. He flicks the back of Jason's ear. "Gotcha."

Jason whirls around to try to get at Dick, but Rowan runs up and grabs him around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Dick reaches out, and suddenly Jason is shrieking with laughter as Dick tickles his sides. Britta's laughing so hard she can hardly breathe, so it takes her a minute to call time.

"Okay, I think I've had enough for today," Babs says, wiping her eyes. "I've got a paper to start for my ethics class, so unless you've got something else hilarious for me to watch, I'm going to head home."

"Have a safe drive," Britta replies. "Boys, hit the showers." She leaves them to it and heads upstairs to see if Harvey's home yet.

He's not back, and a call to his office reveals that he's not there, either. Britta hopes he's on his way home, but since she's fairly certain he didn't spend much of the evening in his office anyway, she's not really sure. She flops down on the bed in her clothes, just planning to close her eyes for a minute while she waits for him, but the next thing she knows Alfred's shaking her awake.

"What-"

"Master Bruce and his companion are here. I'm afraid they brought Master Harvey home in a rather unfortunate state."

Britta frowns. "He's... drunk?"

"Somewhat bruised," Alfred corrects. "Although it appears to be his pride that has suffered the greatest indignity."

"Bruised?" she asks, shaking her head to clear the sleep. "Wait, and Bruce and Selina brought him home. Oh, Harvey…" What the hell was he thinking, crashing a mob wedding? He's lucky they didn't just shoot him in the head and stuff his body into a caterer's van.

Britta's glad that she's still dressed; she doesn't have to waste time pulling anything on before rushing out of the room and down the stairs. Bruce is leaning anxiously over the back of the sofa in the living room, and when Britta rounds the corner, she sees Selina dabbing at Harvey's forehead with some tissues.

"I said I'm _fine_ ," Harvey snaps.

"You don't look fine," Britta says, and Selina and Harvey turn to look at her at the same time.

"Hey, Britt," Selina says, giving her a strained smile. "So, I guess I can return the necklace a little earlier than I thought I could."

"Thanks. You two mind if I have a moment alone with my fiancé?"

Selina stands up and takes Bruce's hand, and Bruce pulls the door shut as they leave the room. "Nice knowing you, Harvey!" Bruce calls out through the door.

Harvey huffs. "Your brother is-"

"What the hell happened, Harvey?" Britta cuts in.

"I was in a public lot taking down license plates and someone jumped me."

"A public lot," Britta repeats. "One that was near the Viti wedding? The one we both agreed we were better off not going to?"

Harvey closes his eyes and wipes blood off his nose. "That would be the one."

Britta sits down next to him. "Why?"

"I can't build a case against Falcone unless I know who to lean on," Harvey replies. "There are people in this city who'd swear on their mother's grave they have no connection to him, but they can't take the risk of offending him by not showing up to the wedding, not showing him the proper respect. Chances like that don't come up every year."

"That's not your job," Britta stresses. "Why didn't you ask Commissioner Gordon to assign some officers? Some plainclothesmen, someone who wouldn't be recognized and beaten half to death?"

"Because it's my case, damnit! And because someone would've tipped them off." Harvey jams the bloody tissue into his pocket. He has a _thing_ about not leaving messes for Alfred to clean up.

"So you lied to me. You wanted to go to the wedding, you just didn't want to be there as a guest." Britta's voice wavers, and she has to clench her hands into fists. She's lost too many people to this city already; if she'd lost Harvey tonight, and the killer had gone free just like whoever shot her parents…

"I'm sorry," Harvey says, suddenly leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. "It's just - I want Gotham to be safe, you know? We've got three kids, we're having a baby…"

"I want _you_ to be safe," Britta cuts in. "You're not a cop, Harvey. You don't have their training, you don't carry a badge or a gun, you never call for backup..."

"Neither does Batman."

"I'm not marrying Batman!" Britta snaps.

Harvey snorts. "Apparently Gordon thought you were, at least for a little while." His smile flickers across his face. "He told me he thought I might be the big bad Bat, until he saw me and Bats standing in the same place at the same time."

Britta swats him. "That's not funny." She'll have to send Helena a fruit basket or something, because clearly her timing is impeccable.

"I'm sorry," Harvey repeats, reaching out to take her hand. "I know this wasn't my smartest move, okay? I'll do better."

"You really need to." Britta squeezes his hand tight, and leans her head on his shoulder. "They're going to be really pissed at you now."

"I know," Harvey says, sighing. "I really… I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to catch a break on the case."

"They almost broke your nose. Does that count?"

He makes a face. "Not exactly what I was hoping for, no."

Britta lets go of his hand and pats him on the shoulder. "I'll ask Alfred to bring you some ice."

"And the plate you saved from supper?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure."

She's hoping for a second to catch her breath and reorganize her brain when she gets out into the hall, but Bruce is waiting.

"I need to talk to you."

Britta sighs. "Right this second?"

"It's about the bank."

"The bank," she repeats. "I'm not going to like this."

"No, you're not. Falcone asked me to put in a good word with the board of directors; he wants to use it as a laundering front."

"Well, that's pretty fucking bold," she says after a moment.

Bruce nods. "I know."

"What did you do?"

"Pretty much told him to go to hell. And then Selina and I left, and found Harvey - well, you know. I don't think I'm in Falcone's good books anymore." He doesn't sound particularly upset about that.

"I don't like that the mob is getting so comfortable," Britta says.

"Nobody does," Bruce replies, shrugging a little. "To be honest, things seemed a little… tense. I don't know how else to say it, except maybe the mob isn't as comfortable as they seem to be."

"I like that even less." 

"Just... tell Harvey to be careful." Bruce leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

"Who are you and what have you done with my baby brother?" she jokes, but she wraps her arms around him nonetheless. It's weird, how much bigger he is now, mostly because in her head he'll always be a skinny little kid who wears her sweatshirts around the house when he thinks she's not looking.

Bruce holds onto her tightly. "I thought - there was so much blood on his face, and for a minute I thought-"

"Shh, it's okay." Britta rubs his back as his giant frame shakes. She's more or less come to terms with the fact that part of him will always be that little kid who saw his parents die. Doesn't make it easy to take, though.

"Sometimes I think the best thing anyone could possibly do is get out of Gotham," Bruce says into her hair. "I don't think I could, though. Not forever."

"Me neither. I tried, but it didn't stick."

"I wonder if Mom knew she raised a pair of masochists," Bruce tries to joke.

Britta swallows hard and doesn't say anything about how Mom knew all about loving even though it hurt her. "I think she'd get it," she says eventually. Then she pulls back and smiles at him. "So, how did the date go, other than terrifying close encounters with the local mob?"

Bruce wrinkles his nose. "Well, Selina didn't ditch me and call a cab when I almost had a panic attack. That's something, right?"

"That's a good sign," she says, patting his arm. "You gonna try for a second date?"

Bruce tips his head back and mouths "Why?" at the ceiling.

"Well, she's one of my best friends and you're my baby brother," Britta says. "I need to know what to root for here."

"Root for me not to drink my nerves away and puke on her shoes."

Britta pats his arm again. "I think I can manage that."

"I should go with Alfred to drop her off," Bruce says, rocking back on his heels. "Shouldn't I?"

"Offer to," Britta advises. "Don't assume. That's always a good rule, but it's especially good with Selina."

He nods. "Right."

"Good luck," Briita says, smiling as she heads for the kitchen. Harvey still needs his ice and his supper, after all.

-0-

For once in her life, Bruce is the least of Britta's problems. It's an odd change of pace. There are a lot of other things on her plate right now, though. First and foremost are plans for the wedding, which is coming up much more quickly than she'd thought it would. Alfred and Ethel are still seeing to all of the details, but Britta has to do some of it, like dress shopping and making sure the boys have tuxes that fit. She's going to be five months pregnant by the actual wedding day, so she has to cross her fingers that the dress will still fit. And then there are security concerns: keeping the wrong people out of the ceremony, deciding how many people to let in, figuring out who's going to cause the least trouble...

It's a lot to think about, and she's doing most of the thinking on her own. Harvey has been spending more and more time at the office lately; the mob hasn't been giving him trouble, not directly, but he's working harder than ever on the case. Britta wishes he was home a little more often, but at least he hasn't gone out deliberately chasing mob members down again.

Dick and Rowan have started spending more time away from home recently, too, with the Titans starting to build some momentum. Sometimes she's grateful they have productive things to do; other times she's just terrified of exactly what they might produce. She knows they're all responsible kids, but at the end of the day, they're still kids.

"What's the look for?" Jason says, pushing aside some of her paperwork so he can perch on her desk.

"What look?"

He scrunches up his face into a horrible grimace. "Damn kids, get off my lawn."

Britta laughs. "Well, I _was_ just thinking about the Titans."

"They're not even allowed in the same state as your lawn," Jason points out. "Except Speedy."

"I'm not worried about the lawn," Briita replies, amused. "I'm worried about their… okay, no, the metaphor is falling apart."

Jason waggles his eyebrows. "Worried about what they might be getting up to?"

"Who they might be getting up to, yeah."

Jason snorts. "I can give you a list, but somehow I think that might not be comforting," he says. "Also, I can't be totally sure it's a full list."

Britta shakes her head. "What I don't know can't hurt my brain."

"Good point," Jason agrees. "You can't un-know stuff without seriously screwing your brain up. Better to just not know."

"Speaking of things I'd rather not know, your ass is on WE's quarterly report." She holds out a hand and waits for Jason to hand it over.

Jason wiggles to the side and pulls the papers out. "Why don't you want to know? About the report, I mean, not what Dick and Rowan may or may not be doing."

"Because when the next quarterly report comes out I'll be seven months pregnant, and the Board are already starting to act like a bag of dicks." Britta grimaces. "Can we just pretend I said something a little more appropriate at the end there?"

Jason grins brightly. "A bag of penises," he suggests. "That's a lot less crude, right? Using the right anatomical word and all."

"They think I won't notice them trying to slash the R&D budget now that I'm knocked up," she complains as she viciously stabs her red pen at the 'financial recommendations' section. "Who knows what other bullshit they're going to try if I go on maternity leave?"

Jason kicks his feet against the desk. "Don't see how you're going to avoid having _some_ time off. It's not like you can turn your office into a birthing suite."

She makes a face. "There's no way I could get the budget for that."

"I wouldn't recommend trying," Jason says. "After all, if they're being a bag of penises about the other budget because of the baby, asking for a baby budget is probably taking it too far." He cocks his head. "Well, maybe asking for a ridiculous thing like that would make the real budget seem a lot more reasonable. I don't know, business is complicated."

Britta grins, leaning forward to tweak his nose. "You have much to learn, young padawan."

Jason blushes, just like she knew he would. But she's kept her promise not to tell a soul that he cried when he realized she has a set of the original unadulterated Star Wars trilogy.

"So," Jason says, drawing it out. "I heard something at school today that you might want to know about."

"Oh? Tell me more."

He kicks his legs against her desk again. "Molly - she's a girl in my history class - she likes those trashy magazines, right? So she brings them in and reads them under the desk when the teacher isn't paying attention."

"Okay," Britta says. "That sounds like something your teacher should know, not me."

Jason hops down from the desk and unzips his bookbag, pulling something out. "Also, I need more lunch money, because she wouldn't give it to me without paying her back for it," he says, tossing the magazine on Britta's desk.

It's folded open to the red-carpet pages near the back, and right in the middle is a photo of Britta. It's from a week or so ago, heading into the office for a late afternoon meeting. She's turned slightly to the side, talking to Lucius Fox, but the meeting isn't the subject of the spread. No, the magazine has put a huge red circle around her stomach, with helpful pointing arrows, and the words "BABY BUMP?" are emblazoned just below that.

"Well, that's really fucking classy," Britta says before she can stop herself. At this rate Alfred's going to start making her keep a swear jar.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "It's the _Gotham Star_ , Britta," he says. "It's like the least classy thing you can buy except that one that features people who have been 'abducted by aliens' or whatever."

This is a headache she really doesn't need. But then, now that she thinks about it, this is one of the few things in her life that doesn't _need_ to be a headache. "Thanks, Jay. Now would you mind scooting off to do your homework? I have to talk to Ethel."

"You and the dragon lady have fun," he says, hopping off the desk again and swinging his bookbag onto his shoulder.

Ethel apologizes for not catching the article and telling Britta about it herself, but she settles down when the idea of getting ahead of the story comes up. "That gives us a better chance of working it into the campaign narrative," she says thoughtfully.

"It also means we don't have to deal with it when it comes out at the wedding," Britta adds. "It's not like I'm wearing a tight dress, but with how much I'm showing right now, and it still being six weeks away… we can deal with one thing at a time."

"One thing at a time is good," Ethel says firmly. "It's a lot easier to keep things from snowballing if there's less to keep track of."

They hash out a list of what questions Britta is and is not willing to answer pretty quickly, and Ethel readily agrees not to ask for payment.

"No-one likes to associate children with monetary gain. Even if that does make the general public somewhat hypocritical, because they paid for the magazine," Ethel adds.

Britta snorts. "They can't pretend I'm their best friend in the whole wide world if I break the social contract and ask to be compensated for the invasion of privacy."

"The real compensation is choosing when and where you confirm," Ethel says. "Got anything in mind?"

"The local press have been nothing but jerks, so I was thinking of The Daily Planet."

"Metropolis," Ethel says thoughtfully. "The Planet's a national paper. That saves a lot of trouble with reconfirming for larger outlets."

"And Lois Lane is a friend," Britta adds.

"And a great reporter to boot," Ethel says. "That'd be a good choice."

She offers to make the call, but this is one task Britta's happy to do herself. Lois is always infectiously happy when she's offered an exclusive. 

"Does this interview include your dashing DA?" is Lois' first question.

"If we can manage a conference call in the next half hour, then yes."

"You'd know better than I would if that was possible," Lois points out.

"Harvey's available between two and four. I have the rest of the day off."

"I can do that," Lois replies instantly. "Do you want to call him and then tag me in, or should I do the arranging?"

"I assume you need to set up recording equipment, so whichever works for you."

Lois hums. "I'll call you, then. How's three sound?"

"Perfect. I'll let Ethel know, and she'll email you our list of no-go questions."

"Oh, come on," Lois complains halfheartedly. "It's just us girls."

"Harvey will be thrilled to know he qualifies," Britta says, grinning. "I'll talk to you this afternoon."

The interview goes well; Lois avoids all of the no-go questions with ease, and Harvey seems to be in a great mood. Britta emails Lois a picture of the whole happy family, and she grins the next morning when Dick sees the headline and chokes on his oatmeal.

"I don't even remember posing for that."

Jason peers over his shoulder. "I do. Getting off the plane from Hong Kong, remember? That's why you look like you haven't slept in four days."

Dick laughs. "Whatever, I still look good."

"Your cowlick is showing," Jason says smugly. "Rowan looks better."

"Nah, little wing, you win," Rowan says smoothly. "No way either one of us could pull off that jacket. You've got the shoulders for it."

Jason doesn't blush often enough; it's adorable to see the spots of color burning on his cheeks. "Thanks, bird brain," he mumbles.

Harvey's still asleep, because he didn't get home until midnight, so Britta smiles to herself and saves the article for him to read later. Lois did a great job with it, not that it's any surprise.

-0- 

The good thing about being the talk of the town is that there's always something else that's going to push you out of the spotlight, and it generally doesn't take long. Even so, Britta was expecting to be the most talked about Wayne for a while, but the morning after her big reveal, it's Bruce's name on the business world's lips. No-one had any warning that Richard Daniels was about to step down from his position at Gotham City Bank, judging by the furious speculation in all the papers, but Britta has a sinking feeling it's closely related to the conversation she and Bruce had after the Viti wedding.

Britta dials Bruce's cell number. She doesn't bother with the pleasantries. "What's going on with the bank?"

"You're talking to the new President."

Britta frowns. "It really came to that?"

"Daniels is in Falcone's pocket," Bruce says darkly. "I couldn't just stand by, Britta. It happened really quickly, or I would have told you about it beforehand."

"It's okay, I get it. If the bank had started laundering Falcone's money, and the FBI built a case against him-"

"The scandal could've brought down Wayne Enterprises, too."

Britta sighs. "Exactly."

"I'm just hoping there aren't any reprisals," Bruce says. "I mean, I'm not sure what to expect, but snubbing a mob boss at his nephew's wedding and then ruining his plans for laundering his money just doesn't sound like something he's going to laugh off."

"It doesn't bear thinking about," Britta agrees. "You should probably talk to Jim Gordon, see if he has any suggestions about the security on your apartment." And in the meantime, she can ask Helena to change her patrol route to cover his neighborhood.

"I'll put in a call," Bruce promises. "You should, too. You know mobs and families."

"Already on it. I always hire extra guards before I put out a press release." It's a white lie - her 'guards' aren't on a Wayne payroll - but Bruce has always been too busy hiding from his demons to sniff out other people's.

Bruce sighs. "You ever wonder what it's like to live normally?"

Britta snorts. "All the time." She's about to launch into a story about her not-exactly-average teenagers and ask Bruce whether he thinks she's being paranoid when Harvey stumbles into the room, wild-eyed and half-dressed. "Hang on a second, Bruce."

She puts her hand over the receiver. "What-"

"I have to get to the hospital. Richard Daniels has been shot."

She freezes. "Richard Daniels? The bank's ex-president, that Richard Daniels?"

"Yes," Harvey confirms as he tries to pour himself coffee and button his shirt at the same time.

"Oh god." Britta turns back to the phone. "Bruce, wherever you are right now you need to call security. Get an escort."

"What happened?" he asks urgently.

"Daniels has been shot," she says. "I have no idea what his condition is, but - please, Bruce."

"I just hit my panic button. Security will be here any minute."

Britta breathes in raggedly and sits at the table. "Thank god. Make sure you get identification before you let them in."

Bruce gives her his promise, and she hangs up to help Harvey get ready. But when she turns around he's staring at her.

"What was that about?" Harvey says flatly.

"Daniels resigned from his position at the bank yesterday, and Bruce took over. I thought... Falcone. Bruce has had a target on his back since Johnny Viti's wedding, and now this."

Harvey leans down and plants his hands on the table. "You mean to tell me your nitwit brother has been _making deals_?"

"No! God, no. He was trying to stop _Daniels_ from making a deal."

"And yet Daniels is the one who's in the hospital, and Bruce is in the hot seat."

Britta feels her stomach turn to ice. "Bruce isn't involved in this, Harvey. If he was, why would he wait for Daniels to resign before shooting him?"

"You know, I just might ask him that myself."

Britta stares for a moment. "You're serious. You think Bruce shot Daniels so he could launder money for Falcone."

"I don't know what to think." Harvey stands up straight, buttons his collar, and ties his tie. "All I know is that there are an awful lot of coincidences going around, and Bruce is the benefactor."

"He would never-"

"I need to get to the hospital," Harvey cuts in. "With any luck Daniels will survive long enough to help ID the shooter." With that he stalks out, and the front door slams a moment later.

Britta clenches her fists and takes a series of deep breaths, in and out. She will _not_ cry; she has no time for it. There's too much work to be done. When she's breathing evenly again, she reaches for her cell and dials a number. "Helena, it's Britta. I need to talk to you."

"Now?" Helena says groggily. "It's not even midday, let alone the middle of the night."

"Now," Britta says firmly. "Something's come up."

"Sure thing, boss lady. Upstairs or downstairs?"

"Down," she says. "And bring all the backup you can drag out of bed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Helena deadpans, as if Britta can't hear that she has company.

"Tell her we have chocolate chip cookies," Britta adds, feeling a smile flash across her face. "It should help."

Helena shifts and murmurs something that Britta doesn't catch. There's an answering murmur, and then Helena says, "We'll be there in half an hour."

Britta hangs up, heading upstairs to do battle with her closet. It's going to be a long day and she needs to be comfortable, but that's not as easy these days as it used to be. She rests her hand on her stomach for a minute. "Don't worry, I promise I'll straighten things out with your dad."

There's no response from the baby, and she drops her hand after a moment, feeling silly for expecting sudden movement. It's still too early, and her life isn't a Harlequin romance novel. A soap opera, maybe. One filled with mobsters and petty crooks, and the occasional big villain - General Hospital during sweeps week.

Britta laughs to herself as she opens her closet. At least Gotham doesn't have vampires.

-0-

Britta is expecting Harvey to come home in time for supper, but six o'clock comes and goes with no word from him. Her texts go unanswered, so when half past eight rolls around, she calls him.

"I can't talk right now," Harvey says. "There's been a second murder."

"A second…" Britta pauses. "Daniels didn't make it. Who else?"

"Johnny Viti. Someone broke into his house while his new wife was at the salon."

"God." Britta closes her eyes and tries to think. "Are you thinking it's the same guy who got Daniels?"

"I'm thinking that two people connected to Carmine Falcone were gunned down, one on a public street and one in his own home.

"You don't still think it's Bruce, do you?"

"He went to Johnny's wedding."

Britta pinches the bridge of her nose. "So did you, Harvey. And before you say anything, yes, you were invited."

"I didn't work with the first victim."

"Okay, saying for a minute that I believe that Bruce could have or would have taken Daniels out. What's his motive for the second murder? What's he got against Viti? There's nothing, Harvey."

"Daniels was in Falcone's pocket. If Bruce is involved, maybe he's trying to extricate himself. And maybe things got out of hand."

"That's a lot of maybes, Mr. Prosecutor," Britta snaps. "I can't believe you can honestly believe that Bruce is behind any of this."

"I have to follow the evidence where it leads me, whether you like it or not."

"Bruce would never handle a gun, Harvey!"

"When I come across other suspects, I'll be sure to investigate them thoroughly."

Britta sighs. "I guess I can't ask for any more than that. Are you coming home tonight?"

"I don't know." Harvey says. "There's a lot of stuff to process."

"We have an appointment with Leslie tomorrow. Can you process that?"

"Aw, hell," Harvey grumbles. "Ten, right? I'll make sure I'm there."

"Okay." Britta needs to believe him, needs to trust that this life they're building together matters. But sometimes it isn't easy. They're a month out from the wedding, two months out from Jason's adoption hearing, and five months out from having a baby. If they're already struggling to find time for each other, god knows how they're going to manage the election next year.

"I'll be there," Harvey insists. "Look, I know you're upset with me, but for what it's worth, I really hope I'm wrong about Bruce."

"He's my baby brother, Harvey. I've looked out for him since the day Mom brought him home from the hospital. I practically raised him after-" She chokes up, and blinks back tears. "If he was capable of killing people, I'd know."

"I wish I could just take your word for it," Harvey says, sighing. "I really do, Britta. I just can't."

"Fine," she bites out. "Just - at least try to get _some_ sleep. If you don't want to come all the way out to the Manor I can have Alfred drop you off some things, and you can crash at the apartment or whatever."

"Thanks," he says. "I'm sorry, Britta. I love you. Tell the boys I said to have a good night?"

"I will." When they get back home.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Harvey promises before hanging up.

Britta starts making a mental list of the things Harvey will need for an overnight stay, and tries not to dwell on the part where she'll be sleeping alone in her giant bed. It takes her half an hour to get everything packed up, and when she takes it down to Alfred, she sees that he's already got a container of leftovers ready to go.

"Harvey's working late again," she explains. Not that Alfred won't have figured that out already, she just... needs to say out loud that it's just for tonight.

"Indeed."

"He's going to stay at the apartment," she adds. "I told him I'd ask you to run him a change of clothes."

Alfred just nods and picks up the leftovers. "I'm afraid the ice cream won't travel well, so I'll have to leave it with you." He raises an eyebrow, and Britta has to bite back a smile. Apparently she's not the only one who's pissed at Harvey.

"Thanks, Alfred," she says, heading to the freezer. There's a container of mint chip, which Harvey hates anyway. "I think the boys and I can take care of this for you."

"There's Neapolitan for Master Jason," Alfred replies. He's on a one-man mission to make Jason feel at home through the judicious use of food he loves. "I'd rather he not eat the whole carton, but I expect no miracles, Miss Britta."

"I'll do my best," she promises. "Anything exciting going on tonight?"

Alfred smiles a little. "I believe they're playing rooftop tag and calling it training."

Britta grins. If it wasn't so damn cold today, she'd be tempted to go down to the Cave and listen in while she has her ice cream. Unfortunately, it's nearing winter in Gotham. It'll be enough to keep her out of the Cave and in the blessedly warm house for months. She doesn't want to risk catching anything from sitting down there, not while she's pregnant.

She curls up in the living room instead, with a stack of reports and a bowl of mint chip. There are at least fifteen project proposals that have passed Lucius Fox's initial yea-or-nay phase, so she needs to read through them and figure out which ones to fund and which ones to cut. It's exciting; she loves seeing what the employees at WE can come up with.

And it's good to have something to think about besides the anatomy scan tomorrow. In just over twelve hours they'll know whether the baby is healthy, and whether it's a boy or a girl. She's not sure what to hope for, or even if she _should_ get her hopes up yet. She's still three weeks short of the point where her first brother, Thomas Jr., died. Of course, she's a lot healthier than her mother had been, and she's not living in constant fear of her partner. It's been on her mind anyway. And she's pretty sure that regardless of the outcome, she's going to cry tomorrow. Which is why Leslie will be there. The prospect of bawling in front of someone who's known her since she was in diapers is a lot less embarrassing than doing it in front of strangers

She really does hope that Harvey remembers and can tear himself away from work for the appointment. She hasn't exactly confided all of her nerves to him, but having him there will help ease at least a little bit of it.

She manages to get through a good couple of hours of work before the boys come tumbling in, complete with howls of unfairness when they see her discarded ice cream bowl.

"I was out there freezin' my nuts off!" Jason whines.

"I'm making a tiny human being," Britta says, raising an eyebrow. "Right now, as we speak." She manages to hold onto her straight face for a few seconds while each of the boys' faces goes a little green before cracking a grin. "There's more in the freezer. Have at it."

Dick and Jason stumble over each other in their rush to get to the kitchen, but Rowan flops down on the couch next to her. 

"Harvey still isn't home?"

Oh, her perceptive little boy. Well, not quite so little, not anymore. Britta sighs and rests the reports on her lap. "He's caught a big case, and he's going to stay downtown tonight. He'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay." Rowan rolls his shoulder and then adds, "Let me know if there's ass-kicking to be done."

"I will," she promises as Dick and Jason come back into the room. Dick is carrying two bowls, and he hands one of them to Rowan before sprawling half-across his brother. Britta smiles, then blinks when a bowl filled with more toppings than ice cream is shoved in front of her face. She looks up and sees Jason grinning.

"For the tiny human being," he says. "You got one before. Now he gets one."

Britta grins back. "What makes you so sure it's going to be a boy?"

Jason sits on the loveseat and waves his spoon at Dick and Rowan. "They think it's gonna be a girl, so it's obviously gonna be a boy." He scoops a huge bite of ice cream up and shoves it into his mouth. He licks the spoon, and then adds, "Plus, being Robin gives me magic."

"The Manor is way cooler than Hogwarts," Dick says with his mouth half-full.

Jason twists around, affronted, and throws a cherry at him. Dick squawks and twists, dumping the cherry into Rowan's lap. Britta gets a sudden horrible vision of the look on Alfred's face if he walked in and saw the remains of the ice cream all over the sitting room, so she raises her fingers to her mouth and whistles sharply. "Dining room. Now." She watches as Dick dips his fingers into his bowl and adds, "The next person to throw food gets to explain everything to Alfred."

Dick quickly sucks the ice cream off of his fingers. Rowan somehow manages to walk straight into the coffee table and crack his shins, almost fumbling his bowl. Dick grabs his elbow so he doesn't fall. Jason snorts, and Britta decides that she really just doesn't want to know.

"Okay, guys, time to get some sleep," Britta says after they load the dishwasher.

"But we don't have school tomorrow," Dick wheedles. "Teacher's convention, remember?"

Britta rolls her eyes. "Your sleep schedules are already crazy enough; there's no need to mess them up even more. Go. Bed."

"Got it," Rowan says, grabbing Dick's elbow and dragging him towards the stairs. "G'night."

Jason follows them out, waving at Britta as he goes, and then she's alone in the kitchen. She sighs and heads back into the living room, picking up the stack of reports and diving back in. Maybe she can bore herself to sleep with those. 

-0-

Waking up alone sucks. She's gotten used to having Harvey in bed beside her; it makes rolling into his cold side of the bed in the morning really rough. Britta allows herself five minutes to feel bad about things, then forces herself to get up and start her day.

The boys are all taking advantage of the day off; when she gets down to the kitchen every one of them is wearing pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

"Morning," Jason says. "Alfred saved you some pancakes."

Britta sits down at the breakfast bar and wistfully takes in the scent of coffee. Alfred is by her side in a flash with a plate of pancakes and a mug of tea. His eyebrow is slightly raised. "I did offer to make decaffeinated coffee."

"It's just not the same," Britta says with a sigh.

"It really isn't," Rowan agrees. "Nothing against your coffee, Alfred, but I don't think anyone has the power to make decaf taste normal."

"So what are we doing today?" Dick asks through his last few bites of pancake. "Please don't say running laps. We played tag so much last night that my legs could use the morning off."

"You hellions are entertaining yourselves. I have an appointment at eleven."

Jason perks up immediately. "Baby pictures?"

"Uh-huh. And today's the day you boys settle your disagreement."

"We bet patrol reports," Dick says smugly. "Little sister is going to win us a weekend off."

Jason snorts. "That's what you think. Little brother's on _my_ side."

"I'll make sure we get an ultrasound printout with conclusive proof," Britta says, amused. 

Jason pushes a bit of pancake around his plate, sopping up as much syrup as it'll hold. "Harvey's gonna be there, right?"

"He's meeting me at Leslie's office," Britta confirms.

"Good," Jason says, popping the bite into his mouth. He chews and swallows before continuing, which puts him far ahead of Dick in the manners competition. "I'd be mad if he was too busy to go."

"He can't help it. There's a lot going on right now."

Rowan frowns. "He's always got a lot going on. Is something else happening?"

Britta sighs and shoves the last of her pancakes away. She'd been planning on briefing them anyway; there's no time like the present. "Two high-profile murders in the last two days. It's not clear yet whether or not they're connected, but both victims had dealings with Carmine Falcone."

It's like a switch flips in the room; all three boys are instantly Robin. 

"Should we be looking into this?" Dick asks.

"No," Britta says immediately. "Stay away from the mobs. I don't want you boys anywhere near it, not while I'm out of the field."

"Huntress is connected to the mobs," Rowan points out.

"Not like this. Not anymore," she says. "And I don't want you crossing paths with Harvey on the job."

"I wish we could tell him," Dick mutters. "It's _Harvey_."

"I know. But he operates on the other side of the law." Britta scrubs a hand over her face. "If we tell him, he has to choose whether to bring charges."

"He wouldn't," Dick protests.

"Then he'd have to resign."

"Or face charges himself," Rowan adds. "Right?"

"If people found out he knew and did nothing, then yeah. He could face jail time, and be disbarred. And then all the convictions he prosecuted would be eligible for appeal."

Jason scowls. "So my old man's shitty friends could get out of jail just because Harvey supported Batman?"

"Pretty much," Britta confirms. "I know it's hard, boys, but please. It's bigger than us keeping a secret."

Dick sighs. "What if he finds out anyhow, and you're not the one who told him?"

The thought has crossed her mind, once or twice or a hundred times. Britta has no idea how it would play out, except for badly. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," she says.

Dick is the romantic of the bunch. She's not surprised when he scowls, but her hands are honestly tied. No matter what path she chooses, there's never been an option to avoid hurting Harvey. Maybe she's selfish; maybe she never should have gotten together with Harvey in the first place. But that just means their friendship would've collapsed under the weight of how they feel about each other. She might be Batman, but she's also human. Britta is very aware of how well she wouldn't do without human connections. She's not the only one with secrets, either. She has to trust that Harvey's won't blow up in her face, just like Harvey's trusting in her.

She sighs and shakes her head. "Anyway, the three of you can do whatever you want while I'm out. Within reason, of course. Keep in mind that I'm going to want to do weights and measurements sometime soon, so if you want to get some last-minute lifting in, now's your chance."

Dick and Rowan exchange a glance that makes Jason sigh and mumble something about reading another book for class.

Britta shakes her head. "Your choice. I'm going to try to talk Harvey into grabbing lunch after we go to Leslie's, so don't hold that for me." She pushes back from the table and levels them all with her best Mom Look. "Don't destroy things while I'm gone."

Dick and Rowan give her matching angelic smiles, and Jason groans.

-0-

Alfred drives her down to Leslie's clinic, and Britta spends the entire ride there trying not to think about everything that's making her nervous. She keeps her head down and shoves open the door to the clinic. There's no message on her phone from Harvey, and she can only hope that's a good thing. 

She signs in at the desk and turns to scan the waiting room. It takes her a minute to find Harvey, sitting beside an empty seat and grinning crookedly at her. Her heart tries to do a Grayson-worthy flip as he waves her over, nearly knocking over the tray of drinks on the table next to him.

"Hi," she says as she sinks down next to him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he replies, gathering her into a hug. "I, uh - I did some googling this morning, and apparently a chai latte has the same amount of caffeine as tea, so..."

"Ohhh," Britta groans, leaning past him to pick up a cup and sniff the cinnamon.

"Is it good?"

"You're a godsend, Harvey Dent," Britta says, sipping at the chai. It's warm without being too hot, so she takes a long sip. "You and your warm beverages."

"The other one's a mango-ginger smoothie, just in case. I know the morning sickness is mostly gone, but it doesn't hurt to-"

Britta kisses him.

"You taste like chai," Harvey murmurs, grinning down at her. "How was your night?"

"Suspiciously quiet. I don't think I want to know what the boys are up to right now."

Harvey laughs. "Probably a good bet, yeah." He shifts. "I wanted to let you know that I spent most of the night looking for someone else to put on the suspect board for those cases, and I found someone that's worth a thorough second glance."

"Okay. Thank you, that's... let's not talk about it until we get out of here. I hate crying in public."

"Okay," Harvey agrees, sliding an arm around her waist. "So, do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Britta shakes her head and smiles. "Oh no. Don't drag me into it. If you and Jason lose, I'm not helping you do the dishes."

Harvey blinks and gasps dramatically. "You really think I'd _bet_ on the sex of our son?"

"Yes," Britta says, amused. 

"It's probably a good thing I don't have to face you in the courtroom," Harvey teases.

"Agreed," Britta says, keeping the smile on her face by force of will alone. The conversation at breakfast is still ringing through her head.

Harvey takes her hand and raises it to his lips. "It'll be fine," he says against the heel of her hand.

She sighs. "I hope you're right." Britta opens her mouth to let it out, to tell him about her mother and Thomas and the tiny grave in the family plot, but the nurse takes that moment to call her name.

The technician greets them with a smile, and from there it's twenty minutes of agonizing silence other than the whirs and clicks of the machine. Britta does her best to stay calm as the technician moves the wand around, pausing occasionally to make notes. The longer it goes on, the tighter she grips Harvey's hand.

"Okay," the technician finally says. "Sorry about that, but I had to take some measurements of the little one. Do you want to see?"

"Yes," Harvey says without hesitation. Britta can only nod along; despite the drink she just had, her mouth is dry.

They stare at the screen when the technician turns it towards them. Britta scans the image, back and forth, and after a minute she laughs. "Harvey, look! We're having an alien."

The technician grins. "Would you like to know the sex?"

"Yes," they say at the same time, and Britta laughs. "Our other three would never forgive us if we didn't. I promised them a printout of the ultrasound as proof one way or the other."

"Okay, well." The technician starts moving the mouse again on the screen. "This line along here is the spine, that there is the umbilical cord, and you can't see it right now because baby's being shy, but behind it is his penis."

"A boy," Harvey says, sounding stunned. His face breaks into a grin a second later and he laughs. "It's a boy!"

Britta can't help it anymore. She bursts into tears.

"A boy," she echoes, grinning at the screen as the tears slide down her face. "Our son, Harvey. Look at him."

Harvey leans over her, and she gratefully hides her face in his shirt.

"He looks normal," the technician says. "Great size for this gestation."

"Any ideas on how big he's going to be?” Britta asks, wiping at her eyes. "Am I going to have a monster-sized baby?"

"Your brother's kind of a monster," Harvey points out. "And neither of us are exactly tiny."

"That's why I'm worried," Britta replies. "If I'm going to have to push a ten-pound kid out of my vagina, I'd like a few months to get myself mentally ready for that."

"He might get there," the tech admits. "I'd estimate him ending up somewhere between nine and ten pounds."

Damn. "I guess it's a good thing I lift weights already," Britta jokes.

They talk about exercise and nutrition, and the tech prints a few different angles of the baby for them to take home before Leslie comes in. "How's everything looking?"

"Like a little boy," Harvey says proudly.

"He looks good, as far as I can tell," Britta adds. Her face is aching from smiling, and her eyes are sore.

Leslie smiles as she studies the ultrasound. After a minute, she nods. "He looks good to me, too. Congratulations."

Britta can't stop smiling. The rest of the appointment goes as she expected; there's more poking and prodding, some questions about diet and exercise, and then she's making another appointment and they're on their way. She's a little surprised when Harvey gets in the car with her to go home, but she takes his hand once they've buckled in.

"I can't believe we're having a son," Harvey says, smiling and glancing at Britta's bump. "Wow. Have you thought of any names?"

"Not Thomas." There are so many reasons why she's not giving her child that name.

Harvey nods. "I don't want to name him after my father either."

"We should probably have something in mind before we get home," Britta muses. "If we show up with nothing, the boys'll make it their sworn mission to give us every awful baby name ever recorded as a suggestion." Their other sworn mission, anyway.

Harvey laughs. "We should tell them we've settled on Harvey Junior, just to see the looks on their faces."

Britta pats his arm. "As long as you know we're not _actually_ naming him Harvey Junior, I'm fine with sticking to that story."

"There's only room in this city for one of me."

"In the whole state," Britta teases. "You're one-of-a-kind."

"Damn right," he says, grinning the smile that's graced the top of Gotham's Most Eligible list. He sobers a little after a moment. "Can I apologize?"

Britta squeezes his hand. "That depends on what you're apologizing for, exactly."

"Bullheadedness," Harvey sighs. "I know I'm like a dog with a bone when I get into a case. I fixated without any physical evidence, and refused to let it go. I let it keep me mad and keep me away."

"In that case, please proceed."

He squeezes her hand. "I'm sorry. I put Bruce's name on the radar, and even though we've got another suspect now - a good one - he's still being dragged into this."

"Thank you," Britta says softly. "I know you're just trying to do your job-"

"But you don't need unnecessary stress, especially now." Harvey sighs. "I was only at a preliminary stage with the investigation at best, but then Fields reminded me that your father treated Carmine and I thought..."

"Like father, like son." Britta hasn't told him all of the ugly truth, but she's let enough slip over the years that Harvey knows Thomas Senior was far from perfect. "Bruce may have his faults, but he's his own man."

Harvey nods. "And him taking over as the bank president to block Daniels makes more sense than whatever I was thinking when I blew out of there yesterday." He sighs. "I really have no idea what was going on in my head."

"You were dealing with the pressure of two high-profile murders on top of the caseload you already have," Britta points out. "Just when we're trying to settle into family life; it's a lot to take on." She pauses. "Maybe the wedding can wait."

"No," Harvey says, shaking his head firmly. "I want to marry you. I want to do it before the baby is born." He smiles reassuringly. "I want it to be us and our boys and Alfred. And Bruce, though I think he might qualify under 'boys' if we squint."

"If you could keep the overnights downtown to a minimum, I'd appreciate it." Britta isn't about to tell him he has to stay home at all times, not with the amount of work he has ahead of him and not with her own late night activities up until recently. But if they can wake up together most days, it'd go a long way towards making her feel less like a lonely housewife.

"I'll do my best," Harvey promises. "I can't tell you I'll never spend the night downtown, but I'll come home as much as I can."

Britta kisses him on the cheek. "And I can't promise I'll never bring work home from WE. I guess neither of us is perfect."

Harvey grins. "Someone should write a song about us. _I can't see me lovin' nobody but you, for all my life_ -"

Britta grins. "Don't let Dick hear you sing. The next thing you know he'll have you strapped to a chair watching High School Musical."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment," Harvey says seriously. "I'm a lawyer. I would know."

"You forget, he's still a minor. He'd get away with it."

"Jason would mount a rescue."

"Jason would queue up _Grease_ ," Britta corrects. "And Rowan knows better than to get between his brothers and musical theater."

The boys are waiting on the front steps when they pull up. Harvey gets out first and holds his hand out to Jason for a high five.

"Does that mean we won?"

"We totally won," Harvey says, grinning again as he helps Britta from the car.

Jason slaps him a high five, harder than strictly necessary judging by the resulting smack, but then he's probably not above punishing Harvey for staying out late.

"I've got the ultrasound pictures," Britta promises. "Let's go inside so we can take a look."

The boys totally ignore her suggestion in favor of crowding around for a group smush (it's too haphazard to be described as a hug).

"Do you have a name picked out?" Jason asks from the vicinity of Rowan's left arm. Britta shoots Harvey a look.

Harvey schools his expression into Serious Prosecutor Face. "We settled on Harvey Junior."

"What? No!" Dick protests.

"Yeah," Britta says, smiling fondly at Harvey. "Why wouldn't we? Harvey David Dent-Wayne."

There's a moment of slightly horrified silence before Rowan snorts. "No way. You're not naming your kid something that could make people call him Harley Davidson."

"Vroom vroom?" Harvey tries. "It's time we told you the truth about when the baby was conceived."

Britta can't keep a straight face anymore.

"Gross!" Jason yelps, twisting out of the pile and slapping his hands over his ears. He runs back up the front steps, and Dick and Rowan chase after him yelling about cooties and laughing at their own cleverness.

"And to think we each signed on for this voluntarily," Harvey says dryly.

"Too late to back out; you're stuck with all of it now," Britta says, lacing their fingers together and heading for the house.

Lunch is chaos, as per usual, and Alfred presides over the whole mess with typical aplomb. There's no threat of a food fight this time, and Britta's just thankful for the small miracles. Even so, he's more than earned his Christmas bonus already.

Alfred is just clearing the plates away when the doorbell buzzes. Britta shoots Harvey a look, but he shrugs. He stands before Britta can. "I'll get it."

She trails after him, brushing crumbs off her shirt, so she's right there when Harvey opens the door and Jim Gordon blurts out, "Thank God!"

"Commissioner?" Harvey frowns. "Was there a break in the case already?"

"No, I thought I was coming here to give your bride-to-be some bad news."

"Bad news?" Harvey asks, still puzzled, but Britta has seen that look on Gordon's face before. She's trying her best not to get what Dick calls the Bat Face.

"What happened?" she asks.

Gordon glances over her shoulder and grimaces. "We should do this in private."

Oh. Right. The average citizen doesn't give out details of crimes to teenage boys.

"Boys, go get some homework done," Britta says. "Commissioner. Please come in."

Alfred appears then, as if she pressed a call button. "Shall I make some coffee?"

"Please," Harvey says, leading Gordon towards the sitting room. "Sit down, Jim. What's going on?"

Gordon waits until the door is closed and they're all seated, and then blows out a heartfelt sigh. "Dent, I'm sorry, but your apartment was destroyed."

-0-

The explosion at Harvey's apartment shakes everyone; he takes a full week off of work to stay at home with Britta and the boys, who in turn stick close to him. The bombers are caught almost too easily; they confess and are let out on bail within a few days, much to Harvey's anger. Harvey works furiously on bringing charges against them, but his efforts turn out to be for nothing when Gordon calls on Thanksgiving evening to inform them that the newly-named Holiday Killer took all of the men out.

Harvey is quiet and tight-lipped for the rest of the night; he shuts down so completely it scares all of them, and the boys make excuses to go to bed early. He throws himself into the investigation again the next morning, and Britta barely sees him for the next two weeks. If there's one good thing about the Thanksgiving killings, it's that Bruce is very clearly no longer a suspect; he was there with them the entire day. It's not really consolation, though.

It gets bad enough that Britta breaks her own rule about keeping the Bats out of Harvey's active investigations. She bundles herself up, heads down to the Cave, and opens up the backdoor program that lets her into GCPD's server. Footage of the bombers' interrogations is in an encrypted folder, but it doesn't take long to gain access. Within minutes, she understands why Harvey is a mess: all four suspects tried to pin the murder of Johnny Viti on Harvey. It's ironic that their deaths proved that he couldn't be Holiday, either, but that's not going to help Britta get her husband-to-be back.

She takes a breath to center herself before knocking on the door of the room Harvey has claimed for his study. "Honey? Can we talk?"

"I'm busy," he calls back. "Can it wait until later?"

He's been _busy_ since Thanksgiving. It's halfway through December. "Not really. It's wedding-related."

"Wedding?" There's a pause before Harvey sighs. "Sorry. Come in."

Britta opens the door. "The guest list isn't what it used to be; I just don't want that many people in my home, after everything that's been going on lately."

"That makes sense," Harvey says, nodding. He looks exhausted. "Who did we cut out of the festivities?"

"It's more like 'who did we leave in,'" Britta says. "Other than the family and Ethel, I've uninvited everyone except the Commissioner and his family. Oh, and the boys invited their friend Roy, and I said that he could still come." Ethel had made sympathetic noises when Britta called to let her know about the new guest list, and when the woman in charge of managing publicity is fine with you ditching publicity... well, Britta's had more than a few sleepless nights. Finding out that people think your paranoia is actually pretty reasonable does things to your head.

Harvey sighs. "I wish such a small guest list didn't make so much sense."

"At least it means we don't need caterers," Britta points out. "Alfred can handle cooking for a dozen people." And no caterers means less chance for someone to slip through security.

"That's true," Harvey says, smiling a little. "You can find the silver lining in anything, can't you?"

"Not everything. I can tell this case is eating you alive."

"Yeah." The smile slips off of Harvey's face. "I'm sorry, Britta. I know I've been the kind of workaholic I promised I'd try not to be."

"The work isn't the problem. I bring work home too. But when you shut yourself away in here, or when you come out to dinner but your mind is still on the case..."

"This one is personal," Harvey says, slumping a little. "I mean, I just - Britt, they tried to frame me for Viti."

"That just means you're making them nervous, Harvey. You must be onto something if they're trying this hard to bring you down." Britta steps around the desk and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me you didn't think I'd believe that bullshit."

"No," he mutters, but there's something in his voice that sounds relieved anyway. "Of course not."

"I'm in love with an idiot." Britta takes his hand and presses it against her stomach. "We're adopting Jason together, and we're having a baby. I trust you, Harvey."

He cups her stomach before leaning in to press a kiss to it. "I love you too. And I'm sorry for being an idiot."

"Apology accepted," she says, smiling at him. "Can I drag you away from work long enough to grab something to eat and talk about a few more wedding details? We've got a few things to iron out before the ceremony."

Harvey goes downstairs and grabs a bite to eat, and it's like he's back from wherever he's been in his head. It's nice, and it gets better day by day. Harvey keeps working, but he makes sure he breaks for meals, and he actually engages with Britta and the boys. By the time the wedding rolls around over the boys' Christmas break, he's back to the Harvey she knows and loves.

The Manor is big enough that they decide to dance around tradition; it'll be easy enough for them to avoid seeing each other before the wedding simply by sleeping in separate wings. Jason and Harvey have a sleepover in the East Wing the night before; as Harvey's groomsman, Jason seems to feel it's his obligation to be where Harvey is. Dick and Rowan stay in their own rooms, and on the morning of the wedding, they wake Britta up just after sunrise to help her get ready. Britta shoves Dick off the bed and tells him to come back with coffee.

Alfred beats him to it; by the time Dick peels himself off the floor and heads towards the kitchen, Alfred is standing in the hallway with a tray. He smiles when Britta groans and reaches for it.

"I've done my best to make an acceptable decaffeinated blend," he announces, walking into the room and putting the tray on Britta's bedstand. "If it's truly as unpalatable as you think it will be, I'll be happy to make you some tea."

"You're a godsend, Alfred." Britta hauls herself up and rests against the pillows.

"I do aim to please," he says, pulling the cover from one of the plates. "Which is why I've brought fruit and cream, of course." Rowan pretty much dives across the bed in his haste to grab the plate, but Alfred lifts it out of his reach. "Your breakfast is in the dining room, young sirs."

"But Alfred," Rowan whines, making grabby hands at the plate. It's completely ridiculous; he's nearly sixteen and he's stretched across the bed with his hands out and a pout on his face like a toddler. Britta can't help but laugh.

Then Alfred says the magic word to make the boys disappear: bacon. They run out of the room more quickly than she can track, and she hears them thunder down the hallway and then the stairs. For two kids who she knows can be more graceful than anyone else, they really do make a lot of noise.

Alfred raises an eyebrow at her. "If you would prefer to sleep in, I'm sure I can find something to keep them occupied for an hour or two. Shoveling snow from the front steps, perhaps."

"I'm up now," she says, sighing a little. "If you want them to shovel, by all means, send them out. I can relax with my breakfast and get a long shower in if they're doing something else."

Alfred nods. "The stylist will arrive at ten sharp. The young masters have allowed you almost four hours to get ready."

"They're so thoughtful," she says dryly, taking a sip from her mug. She blinks at it after swallowing. "This is actually palatable. Thanks, Alfred."

He gives her a small, pleased smile and heads out to tend to the herd.

Britta silently wishes him godspeed as she eats. Her breakfast is wonderful, which isn't surprising, and by the time she's done with it, she feels ready to face the day. It's quite a feat for her breakfast to achieve. She takes a nice hot shower, and by the time she gets out and wraps herself in her bathrobe, the twins are back from their shovelling excursion.

"Oh my god, it's so cold I think I'm going to die," Dick complains.

Rowan slips behind him and shoves a hand under his collar.

"Hey!" Dick yelps, twisting away. It would probably work with anyone else, but Rowan's more of a contortionist than Dick is, so his hand stays put. "Rowan! Stop!"

"Stop complaining about the cold or she'll make us run laps."

"Not today she won't," Dick says, grabbing Rowan's wrist and twisting again. "We don't have time for laps and showers before the ceremony. It's one or the other, and there's no way she wants us sweaty for the wedding."

Britta laughs. "The ceremony isn't for three hours, Dick."

"See?" Rowan hisses. "She totally would make us get all sweaty."

Dick blinks innocently. "But we need time to shower. And get dressed. And help you with your makeup and stuff."

"You're not actually my bridesmaids," Britta says for at least the fifteenth time. "There's a stylist coming. And I'll have Selina." She really should've foreseen that of anyone in this house, it'd be Dick who'd be most likely to go full-tilt bridezilla.

"You need to get your nails done," he insists for the millionth time. "New rings mean people take photos of your hands."

Britta glances at the clock, then back to Dick's eager face. "If you can get them finished before the stylist gets here, you can do them." Sometimes it's just better to let the kids do what they want.

Dick's eyes light up. He runs to her bathroom to grab a nail kit, and before Britta can change her mind, he's dragged a chair up and captured her hand. "This'll be great, I promise," he says happily.

Britta looks up, hoping to catch Rowan's eye and share her bemusement, but he's laser-focused on her hands just like Dick. She snorts. "Rowan, if you're that worried about my nails, you can work on my other hand," she says, holding it out.

"No," Dick says immediately. He waves vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. "Go get another nail kit. Do her toes."

"I'm not even wearing open-toed shoes!" Britta protests. 

Dick rolls his eyes. "As if you won't kick off your heels the first chance you get. We all know you'd do the first dance barefoot if Ethel lets you."

Bridezilla. Right. Britta sighs as Rowan comes back into the room, obediently settling down on the floor and pulling Britta's foot into his lap.

It's actually kind of nice being pampered, after the rollercoaster year they've had. The boys are good at what they're doing, too, and when Britta asks, their unison reply is "Donna." She makes a mental note to send Wonder Girl a fruit basket. Dick pulls a bottle of clear nail polish from god only knows where, and she watches in fascination as he and Rowan trade the bottle back and forth seamlessly. A bottle of dark red is produced from the ether as well, and it's almost like watching them juggle, with how they pass the two back and forth. Sometimes she forgets that it's not just her training that has them moving in sync, that they've had a lifetime to learn each other's movements. It really is an incredible sight to behold.

"Done," Dick proclaims a few minutes later. He leans over to blow gently on Britta's nails while Rowan screws the cap of the clear polish back on. "Don't touch anything for a few minutes, okay? It's the quick-set stuff, but we don't have time for a redo if you smudge it."

"That won't be a problem," Selina says from the doorway. All three of them turn to look at her, and she smiles. "I brought Alison up to do your hair, so you can stay right where you are for the time being." She shoos the twins out and takes a seat on the bed. "So, anything you want me to tell your dashing DA when I make my trek over to the East Wing?"

"I'm fine, Selina. One night is hardly enough for separation anxiety."

"If you say so," Selina says, patting her arm. "How about your dashing youngest-for-now, then?"

Britta snorts. "Tell him to let Harvey do his own hair."

It makes Selina grin. "I'll pass it along," she promises. "Do you want me to have Bruce entertain the boys? Or the boys entertain Bruce?"

"I think Dick is pretty well entertained worrying about whether the flowers will get here on time, and critiquing Alfred's decorating skills." Britta pauses for a moment and then adds, "On second thought, Bruce should probably rescue Dick before Alfred hides his body."

"He just wants everything to be perfect," Selina says softly. "Let the kid have his moment."

Britta's glad she hasn't had her makeup done yet, because her eyes are stinging suspiciously. "Just remind them that they need showers before they get dressed," she says. "Alfred had them clearing snow this morning. I'd rather my groomsmen didn't smell."

Selina cracks up laughing. "As if Dick would let _himself_ be anything less than perfect today."

Britta smiles. "True."

"I'll see you later," Selina promises, standing as a slight blonde woman enters the room. Alfred follows, carrying a truly scary amount of cases for what Britta had assumed would be a simple hair styling procedure. "Happy wedding, darling."

Over the next hour and a half Britta has her hair combed, sprayed, pulled and twisted in every direction, and her face slathered with an intimidating level of makeup intensity.

"Trust me, it'll look great in photos," Alison says when she catches Britta's dubious expression. Britta still has hair strips on the back of her head.

Dick comes back as Britta is being zipped into her dress, and he flits around the room in an obvious attempt to not jump in and lend a hand.

"It fits!" he crows, when Alison steps back.

"Of course it does," Britta says, amused. "I had my last fitting three days ago."

"You look great," Dick says, smile shining on his face. "Really, really great. Except your hair's not totally done yet, but I'm sure it's close. Right?"

"The product needs another ten minutes to set, and then I have to set the veil in with the curls, so we'll be ready to go in half an hour," Alison says brightly.

Dick's jaw drops. "But the ceremony's in-"

"Dick," Britta cuts in patiently. "Is Rowan ready?"

"Yeah. He's helping Roy unload the flowers."

Britta's eyebrows shoot up. "Unload? How many-"

"Look at the time!" Dick yelps. "Gotta run, things to do and we only have an hour."

"Make sure Bruce has his cummerbund on the right way!" Britta calls as Dick races out. She makes a silent prayer that Dinah Lance won't be out for blood after all this last-minute work.

"He seems like a sweet boy," Alison comments as she checks on the state of Britta's hairdo.

"He is," Britta says proudly.

Rowan ducks his head in a moment later, and Alison does a double-take. "Mom, the photographer's here."

"Thanks, sweetie," she says. "Is your brother driving everyone nuts?"

"No more than usual," Rowan says, shrugging. "He's Dick. Pretty much everyone here is used to him."

"On a scale of one to black Amex, how crazy did he go behind my back?"

Rowan grins. "Not as bad as you're thinking, probably more than you're hoping for. I swear it's all tasteful."

"You helped?"

"I helped."

Britta doesn't really have any room to complain about the twins going overboard; she's the one who panicked and cancelled her orders with all outside vendors except Alison, whom she's known for ten years. Needless to say there won't be any security concerns arising from flowers by Black Canary and lovingly delivered by Speedy, or from photography by the newest Green Lantern.

"How are the preparations coming in the gentlemen's suite?" she asks instead of worrying about the transformation going on in the ballroom.

Rowan snorts. "Harvey kicked Bruce out for having a play-fight with Jason."

Oh, boys. She grins. "All is normal, then?"

"Pretty much."

"Good," she says. "What still needs to be done?"

"We've got it handled," Rowan promises. "You just get yourself ready, and we'll worry about the rest."

"Right, because I cope so well with vagueness."

He grins at her and comes over to kiss her on the cheek. "You're busy cooking a human. Speaking of which, are you hungry?"

"Sort of," she admits. "I can wait until after the ceremony, though."

Rowan shakes his head and plasters on the most fake sad-face she's ever seen. "I guess you don't want any of Alfred's buttermilk pancakes, then."

"I'll get crumbs in my dress," she protests weakly. Alison, the traitor, pulls some sort of tarp out of somewhere and settles it over Britta.

"Eat up, mommabear," she says cheerily. "I'll finish your hair while you get the baby some nutrients."

Britta is the goddamn Batman; she knows how to fight multiple opponents, but she also knows when to bide her time. Rowan ducks out of the room and returns with a plate of pancakes, and he and Alison chat while Britta eats as much as she can without feeling uncomfortable. Then Alison touches up Britta's makeup, helps her stand up and adjust the dress so it's sitting right, and wishes them luck.

"Here we go," Britta murmurs. Rowan smiles up at her and offers his arm. She leans on him as she steps into her shoes, and he adjusts easily to her weight. Britta has to take a minute then to remember not to cry, or to bite her lip and ruin her lipstick. He's just so... grown up. She's raised Dick and Rowan alone since they were eight years old, small and terrified and angry. Everything's different now, including the two of them, and it's a lot to take in.

Dick walks in just as Britta gets herself composed, and she nearly loses it all over again. He beams at her and walks over to take her other arm. "Ready to go get married, Mom?"

Britta pulls them both in for a hug. "I love you, boys," she says. "Thanks for being here."

-0-

Kyle Rayner snaps picture after picture as the three of them descend the main staircase. Britta knows she's smiling from ear to ear, and the twins are almost glowing with their grins.

Jason is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Britta frowns a little, breaking away from the twins to go over to him. "Jason? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know I'm supposed to be up there with Harvey already, and Selina is, but I-" He breaks off, takes a deep breath, and hugs her. "I wanted to do that. Before we got up there and I couldn't."

It's not easy, but Britta resists the urge to ruffle Jason's hair. "Thank you, Jason. Now I've hugged all my boys today."

There's a slight cough from the doorway, and Britta looks up to meet Alfred's smile. "If you've one more hug in you, Miss Britta, I'd be honored."

"Of course, Alfred," Britta says, giving Jason one last squeeze before crossing the room. Alfred's arms close around her gently, and Britta does her best not to sniffle into his shoulder. He'd probably never forgive her for getting makeup stains on his suit.

"There now," he says, patting her on the back. "Are we ready?"

"Almost," Jason pipes up. He heads over to the door of the ballroom, and turns back one last time to give them a thumbs up before he heads in to join Harvey.

Kyle slips in and snaps a few pictures before turning back to face the doors. Dick and Rowan approach, and when the music starts, they walk down the aisle side-by-side. Britta takes a deep breath, lets Alfred settle her hand in the crook of his arm, and then there's no turning back.

Harvey is smiling at her from the front of the room, and for a little while he's all she can see. It looks like he's in the same boat, though, so Britta just smiles wider and keeps moving towards him. Then Dick and Rowan get to the front of the room and step aside, and Britta frowns slightly in confusion. Why is Leslie standing there, instead of sitting with the guests?

Alfred leans towards her and whispers, "Chin up, my dear."

"Alfred," she whispers back, "why is Leslie-"

"Well, someone has to perform the ceremony," he says as they come to a stop at the end of the aisle.

Alfred kisses her on the cheek and goes to sit down next to Jim Gordon and his wife.

When she glances at Jason he's grinning his head off. "Surprise."

"You little sneak," she says, laughing a little. "Thank you."

Jason gives her another thumbs-up. There's a click from Kyle's camera, and the look on Jason's face when he realizes the gesture has been captured forever is priceless.

"Britta," Leslie says warmly. "Ready to get hitched?"

Britta smiles at her, and takes Harvey's hand. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The ceremony itself is a blur. Leslie talks for a little while, and then both she and Harvey repeat after her; Selina produces their rings, and then Leslie's telling them to "kiss, already, before your kids bowl you over."

The kiss itself is chaste and brief, but then Harvey slides his arms around her and she tucks her face into his neck. Dick whoops and throws his arms around them both, and from there it turns into a free-for-all hug that makes Britta even more glad she opted for a dress without a train.

The Commissioner and his wife come over to congratulate them, as do Ethel and Roy. Bruce gives Britta a hug that would probably squash her if she didn't have so much upper-body strength, and then Kyle is herding them around, snapping pictures left and right. Selina steals her at some point to fix her makeup, and then Alfred herds the guests away so they can have a cocktail hour while the more formal family photos are taken.

Kyle poses them in the ballroom and takes some pictures, then suggests that they go outside and take a few more. It doesn't take long for the boys to get cold and scamper back inside, but Harvey takes his jacket off and puts it around her shoulders, so Britta takes her time walking back in. The grounds of the Manor are still and quiet, aside from the occasional tree branch creaking under the weight of fresh snow. It feels good to just be in the moment with Harvey. They wander for a little while, both of them tuning Kyle out as he follows them, still taking pictures. They don't turn to head back until the flurries start up again, and by the time they get back to the Manor, their hair is full of snowflakes.

They both end up shivering when they step inside; the warmth makes the snowflakes melt instantly, and Britta feels the chill of ice water slipping down her neck. Harvey smiles at her as he leans in to kiss her temple. "Want to change before we join the party?"

"We'd never make it out of the bedroom."

Harvey laughs. "That's probably true." He offers his arm. "Ready, then?"

Britta takes his arm, and it's just as well. She slips in a fresh puddle of used-to-be-snow. "God, I hate these things," she mutters as she kicks off her heels. "Who decided that wedding shoes don't need a decent tread?"

"We'll sue the company," Harvey promises, grinning. "Faulty shoes."

"I'm in," Britta says, smiling back. "I'm sure we can round up a few others with the same complaint. We can make it a whole thing."

Dick laughs at Britta's lack of shoes when they walk into the dining room, making Britta pull up the hem of her dress and show off her pedicure. She does a twirl, and somebody catcalls. Probably Bruce, because he's classy like that, but it's her party and she's feeling magnanimous, so she just smiles.

They sit down in their spots at the table, and the boys help Alfred bring everyone's plates out. The duck is perfect; Roy, who had looked at it with something like horror in his eyes when he'd been told what it was, asks Alfred if there's another serving when he inhales the first.

Dick keeps sneaking glances at her, so when there's a break between courses Britta leans past the giant floral centerpiece and says, "This is beautiful. Thank you."

Dick beams, and Rowan thumps his back. "Told you she liked it."

"Yeah, but only because I talked you out of the doves."

Britta groans. "Doves? Really?"

Rowan grins. "That's what I said."

"Thank you for talking him out of the doves," Britta says. "That would have been… a little much."

Jason leans over and flicks Dick in the ear. "Living things aren't decoration."

Selina nods her head in agreement on the other side of the table.

"We would have set them free," Dick says mulishly. "That was the whole point."

"And where exactly would they go in the middle of winter?" Selina points out.

Dick grumbles, and the tips of his ears are turning pink. Britta takes pity on him. "Anyway, this really did turn out lovely."

Alfred brings out the wedding cake after the dinner plates are cleared, and Britta takes great delight in smearing a slice all over Harvey's face. He laughs and returns the favor, and then they share a sticky kiss. Kyle brings out the camera again, and Britta hears the shutter click several times while everyone laughs and claps. Then it really is time to get changed. Britta doesn't fancy spending the rest of the afternoon with chocolate in her cleavage.

It doesn't take long; they do, actually, make it out of the bedroom, but Britta's sure that's more due to their post-cake plans than anything else. They've got a room reserved at the Westin downtown. It'll be a short honeymoon, but neither of them can really afford to take a lot of time off at this point. They say their goodbyes to the guests, and the boys come out on the front steps to wave them off. The three of them look suspiciously angelic in their suits, and Britta doesn't want to know what they have planned with Roy sleeping over.

Between the distance and the weather, the drive to the Westin is probably going to take almost half an hour. The sun is already setting when they leave the Manor, and even though it's not all that late, Britta is suddenly exhausted. All the running around she's done today has had a soporific effect on the baby, and when Harvey slides into the back seat next to her Britta doesn't hesitate to follow suit. Even if it means drooling on Harvey's clean shirt. Harvey slides his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his chest, and Britta closes her eyes happily.

The next thing she knows, they're bouncing over a speed bump in the Westin's parking garage. "Mm, here?" she asks, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. "That was fast."

Harvey laughs. "The sun's fully set. You were out for a while."

She frowns. "Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize I was so wiped."

"It's fine. If you like, you can stay here with Alfred while I go check in."

"Okay," she says, sinking back into the seat.

She opens her eyes again when Harvey opens the door back up. He smiles and offers her a hand. "Let's go, Sleeping Beauty."

Britta smiles at him crookedly, almost forgetting to thank Alfred before she gets out of the car.

They make it up to the suite without stumbling too badly, which is something of a minor miracle. Britta's too tired to do much more than brush her teeth and flop onto the bed. Harvey sits down beside her and strokes his fingers through her hair. "Mind if I turn the television on for a little while?"

"Uh-uh." Britta yawns. "Mind if I spend our wedding night catching some Zs?"

"I think I'll survive," Harvey says, smiling down at her. "I love you, Britt. Sleep well."

"Love you too," she manages to reply, and then she's out like a light.

-0-

Britta wakes up starving. She makes the executive decision to raid the mini-bar while they wait for breakfast. "God, it should be illegal for pistachios to taste so good."

"It is," Harvey says seriously. "If they don't taste at least ten percent bizarre, they have to be sent back. It's a law."

She throws one at him. "Quiet in the pistachio gallery."

He leans over to catch it in his mouth, but the joke's on him; she didn't crack it first. He makes a face as he spits it into his hand. "You should probably wait at least twenty-four hours for the life insurance to kick in," he jokes.

She rolls her eyes and manages to keep herself from grimacing. It would have been a lot funnier a few months ago, before the Falcone family had tried to kill Harvey.

Harvey smiles at her apologetically. "Sorry about the gallows humor."

"Apology accepted," she says. "Apology extra-accepted if you can figure out how our waffles managed to get lost on their way here from the kitchen. How long did they say it would be?"

"Ten minutes." He grins at her, and shakes his head. "It's only been five."

"Some day my waffles will come," she says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. The baby kicks, and she pats her stomach. "I'm working on it, kiddo."

Harvey is a smart man, because he chooses that moment to slide his fingers into her hair and give her a scalp massage. Her head still aches where the hairpins had pressed in tight against her skin.

"This is why I married you," she says, closing her eyes and pushing into his fingers. "You have magic hands."

Harvey's magic hands keep up their good work until the food arrives. He's even good enough to meet the room service delivery kid at the door, and he carries the tray of food in and sets it on the bed.

"I love you all," Britta coos at the waffles.

"You'll love them more with butter," Harvey promises, grabbing a packet off of the tray and passing it over.

Britta kisses him. "You're the best."

"Me and breakfast," Harvey agrees. "Together we're unstoppable."

Together they perpetrate a great waffle massacre. Violence has never been so much fun. The rest of the morning passes peacefully; they lay in bed for a while, necking like teenagers, and then they get up to shower and change. Harvey's hands linger over her stomach, and if this were a movie it'd be the perfect moment for the baby to kick. _Come on, kid_ , Britta thinks. _Do me a favor and be predictable just this once._

No dice; apparently he's gone back to sleep now that Britta’s had her breakfast. She shrugs at Harvey. "You'll feel it eventually."

Harvey hums in agreement. "We have plenty of time."

"Speaking of time," Britta says, glancing at the clock, "Alfred should be here soon. We should make sure the Manor is still in one piece."

"Bruce and Selina were going to…" Harvey stops and shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go home."

Alfred has the car at the curb when they make their way down. He smiles when he sees them, opening the trunk and helping Harvey load their overnight bags.

"Mr. Wayne," he says to Harvey with a sly smile.

Harvey grins at him. "Aw, Alfred, you flatter me."

Alfred raises an eyebrow. "I believe that's your wife's job."

"He brought me waffles," Britta says as she climbs into the car. "He's the best."

"Indeed," Alfred says warmly, holding the door for Harvey.

Harvey climbs in beside her and takes her hand, squeezing gently. Britta smiles at him and squeezes back, and that's how they spend the drive back to the Manor. Apparently the twins have gotten over whatever it was that made them get out of bed at the crack of dawn yesterday, because the only one to meet them at the door is Jason.

"Welcome home," Jason says, smiling brightly. "You gotta open the presents. It's killing me not knowing what everyone got you guys."

Britta smiles. "A lot of them are from people who couldn't make it. Y'know, the boring rich assholes who suck the joy out of parties anyway?"

Jason blushes; he clearly recognizes when she's quoting him back at himself. He'd been adorably offended that anyone turned down an invitation.

Harvey laughs and steers him back inside. "That means half the presents are going to be both expensive and useless, so I wouldn't be _too_ excited."

"Aw," Jason grumbles. "I was hoping there would be something fun in there."

"Well, one of them is from Oliver Queen." Britta's just hoping it isn't a weapon. Ollie's ceremonial swords tend to actually be more functional than they look, which makes them dangerous to play pirates with. Ollie probably knows better. Probably. She's not placing any bets, though. Especially not since she's seen the glint in Roy's eye whenever Ollie mentions custom arrowheads. 

"Well, you can help us with the opening process," Britta says as they round the corner. Her eyes open a little, and Harvey whistles. Apparently gifts have been coming in all day; there's a mountain of them in the sitting room.

"What - we only invited fifty people to start with, and almost all of them were uninvited," Harvey says faintly.

"This one's from the mayor," Jason crows.

"Let me get my laptop," Britta says. "We need to record who gave us what so I can send out thank-you cards." Jason nods distractedly, reading tags off of gifts as fast as he can. "Jay, can you start sorting? Big gifts, little gifts, cards? And be careful; a lot of it is probably fragile."

They're not even close to halfway done when Rowan stumbles downstairs (with a giant hickey on his neck that Britta's just going to pretend she can't see; she has no problem with him hooking up with Roy, or whatever, but that doesn't mean she's ready to talk about it today).

"Good morning, Rowan," she says, smiling as he blinks at her. "Is Dick still asleep?"

"Yeah, he's-" Rowan waves his hand vaguely. "We were up late, us an' Roy."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I _know_." He turns to Britta. "Alfred and I watched movies down here for hours, 'cause they were making so much noise."

Rowan turns bright red and backs out of the room.

Britta just sighs. She is so not looking forward to having The Talk: Gay Edition. That's a battle for another day, thankfully. Today's is getting through the rest of the gifts; it looks like the pile is actually getting smaller, though, so there's hope.

"Huh. This one looks interesting," Harvey says, holding up a large envelope.

"Who's it from?"

"Barbara Gordon. Jim's niece, not his wife."

"Don't wanna get that around the wrong way," Jason says gleefully.

That's it, Britta decides; Jason has officially seen Star Wars too many times if he's blasé enough to make incest jokes. "Okay, time for lunch," she says briskly. "Those waffles were hours ago. Let's see what Alfred's got for us."

Jason almost skips out of the room at the mention of food, but Harvey doesn't move.

Britta puts the laptop aside and pats the sofa beside her. "C'mere. Let's open it up."

"What if it just raises more questions?"

"It might," Britta says. "Even if it does, though, it's more information than we had before."

Harvey nods and rips open the envelope. There are several pages inside, and Harvey scans through them before plucking one out. He puts the others in his lap and stares at what he's holding.

"Apparently Nyssa is a family name." Harvey blinks rapidly, and keeps reading. "There's been a Nyssa in every generation going back to- to the nineteenth century."

"Harvey-"

"Until almost all of them were wiped out in the Holocaust."

Britta sucks in a breath. "Harvey. Look at me."

"Then the name doesn't appear again until my birth certificate."

"A lot of records were destroyed during that time," Britta says gently. "We can do more looking. Someone probably knows something."

He laughs, short and ugly. "And find what? More torture and death?"

"I'm sorry, Harvey." She reaches out to take the paper from him. "I'm sorry there isn't happier news."

"She survived," he says flatly. "Or her parents did, and then she had me. And she gave me away."

"Yes," Britta says. "And we don't know what her circumstances were, or anything about her other than her name. I know adoption didn't do you any favors, Harvey, but don't blame her."

He crumples the piece of paper in his hand and squeezes his eyes. shut. "They lost everything and she still didn't want me."

"You don't know that," Britta says helplessly. "Harvey, I - whatever led her to make that choice, everything that's happened since, that's why you're here. That's why _we're_ here."

"I know, I _know_." His voice shakes. Britta can't do anything but put her arms around him. "Some people are great; my parents weren't," Harvey spits out. "I just thought maybe if I went back far enough-"

"You're from a family of fighters," Britta says. "They survived, Harvey. That counts."

"It has to stop. I need it to stop."

"I'll help you," she promises. "Whatever you need."

Harvey leans his weight on her and she hangs on, anchoring him.

-0-

Harvey spends the rest of the day quietly brooding. Britta can't really blame him; the news was shocking to her, so she can't imagine how much worse it was for him. Britta feels awful when they get a call from Gordon the following day, telling Harvey that there's been another Holiday murder; it's terrible that someone else is dead, but the news gets Harvey out of his own mind and focused on something else.

"Who was it this time?" she asks when they're finally alone for the evening.

"Falcone's personal bodyguard." Harvey sighs, and scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. "It's only a matter of time before the killer works their way up to the man himself."

Britta frowns. "Well, I can't imagine that his gang is going to make it easy to get to Falcone. They'll probably close ranks around him soon, right?"

"That's the thing: they started closing ranks after Johnny Viti died. A year ago Falcone tried to have the guy killed himself, so word is he wasn't happy about the idea of one of his lieutenants making an unsanctioned hit after all was forgiven."

" _His_ lieutenants?" Britta narrows her eyes. "You think it's an inside job."

"Gordon's taskforce is focusing on Maroni and his people, but I just think..." Harvey shrugs. "I think too many people are dying. Somehow the killer is consistently getting through Falcone's security, and Maroni's people just aren't that good." He hesitates then, and asks, "Are you sure you want to talk about this?"

"Talk it out," Britta says, smiling a little. "I don't need all the gory details, but who knows? Maybe putting your theories out there will make something click." And if she gets some information that she can pass along to Helena, that'll just be a bonus.

"Alright, you asked for it. The other thing that's been bothering me is the bomb at my old apartment. Why would Falcone do it? Why would he want me out of the picture when I'm trying to catch whoever's thinning his ranks? And why would he be so clumsy about it that the bombers get caught, and then he has to have them taken out to clean up after himself?"

Huh. That's a fair point. "He wouldn't," Britta replies. "Falcone has no time for amateurs."

"Exactly."

"So it was all a setup," Britta says thoughtfully. "The bomb thing was to throw you off the scent of whoever it really was, and then when it backfired, whoever is actually responsible got rid of the witnesses." She pauses. "It has to be someone who thinks they're smarter than you, but who also doesn't have that much experience."

Harvey nods along. "And it has to be someone high up, because they're getting through even though Falcone has closed ranks. Someone with a grudge, because they're taking him down from the outside. Someone who thinks they're being kept out of their rightful place, and is willing to kill to 'earn' it." He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I investigated Falcone's sister but she's not cold enough to take out her own son."

"Falcone's got a daughter, right? I seem to remember her getting locked up a few years ago. Maybe she's getting out and getting even for Daddy not making the charges disappear?" Britta guesses.

"Could be her," Harvey agrees. "Who else would a bunch of self-styled tough guys let close except someone they trust, or someone they don't consider a threat."

Britta bites back a grim smile. She's heard enough from Helena to have a good idea what it's like growing up female in a mob family, surrounded by overblown egos and casual misogyny. "They'd keep her close," Britta agrees. "Daddy's little girl, fresh out of prison, and now somebody's taking out Falcone guys? They'd probably do their best to protect her." Even though the last thing Sofia Falcone needs is anyone else's protection. Britta did a lot of the legwork that got her put away in the first place; the woman is absolutely capable of being Holiday. She's that good, and she doesn't seem like she is. It's almost too perfect.

"I'll look into it. I'm just not sure she'd be this sloppy," Harvey points out. "I tried every trick in the book to get her tried for attempted murder, but we couldn't make it stick. Couldn't even get her on felony assault."

Britta very clearly remembers the look on Harvey's face as he'd reported that to her on the roof of Central, anger and disappointment and disgust warring with each other. She nods. "So if it's not her, who else is that high up and that sloppy? Seems to me like you don't _get_ that high up if you're that sloppy."

Harvey goes still. "Maybe someone who's seen the Godfather one too many times and thinks that being close to the family business lets you learn skills by osmosis, but doesn't have the practical experience. Someone who's close enough to see it, to glamorize it, but doesn't get to play in the sandbox with his brother and sister."

"Alberto."

"Alberto," Harvey echoes, nodding. "It fits, doesn't it? Goddamn it."

"Do you need to go talk to Gordon in person?"

"Not right now, no," Harvey says. "I'll call him in a little while and give him my theories, but arresting Alberto isn't my job. I just need to be sure the case is airtight when it goes to trial."

"Then I guess you need to try to figure out a motive," Britta says, tapping her foot on the carpet.

"Motive," Harvey says thoughtfully. "You'd think he'd have more of a motive to attack one of the other families in Gotham, right? The Maronis have been at the Falcones' throat for years, but Alberto is going after his own."

"Think he's trying to take over?" Britta asks.

"It's possible. Although, in that case, it'd make more sense for him to go after Maroni: that would prove he's capable, and gaining extra territory for the family would make Falcone's men more likely to switch loyalty." 

Britta nods. "But instead he's killing off the people he would need to help him run the business, if he took over."

"Maybe his ego is big enough that he thinks he doesn't need help," Harvey muses.

"He'd have to clean house, though," Britta says. "I mean, completely clean house. He'd have to get rid of everyone from his father and his sister all the way down. Nobody's going to follow him, not with how loyal they are to Carmine."

"That's starting to sound more like a tantrum than a tactic."

Britta nods. "Alberto's an Ivy League graduate from a family with money. A lot of guys like that don't even like acknowledging that the word 'no' exists, let alone that it could ever apply to them."

"So it's not about taking over, and it's not about proving that he's good enough," Harvey says slowly. "It's about revenge." He shakes his head. "I've been looking at this all wrong. This is about emotion, not business. He's not a contract killer; he's a serial killer. And those guys almost always start with a victim who has meaning for them."

"So what does Alberto's cousin Johnny mean to him?" Britta asks.

"Word on the street is that Carmine was looking to put a bullet in Johnny himself not too long ago," Harvey replies. "Somehow Johnny fixed his mistake and got himself welcomed back with open arms. If Alberto saw that all go down and still couldn't get a foot in the door himself..."

Britta closes her eyes. It all makes way too much sense to be an idle theory anymore.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Harvey says gently. "We'll stop, okay? I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay. Just catch the bastard."

"I plan to," Harvey says grimly. "I'm going to go to my office and call Gordon. Hopefully this breaks the case, and we can put him away before anyone else gets hurt."

Britta hugs him tightly and then lets him get to work. It's never been more difficult to be sidelined than it is today.

-0-

Christmas is subdued, but it's a lot easier to breathe now that Britta knows it's because Harvey's neck-deep in work, not because he's drowning inside his own head. And the fact that she's more relaxed means that the boys aren't so much on edge either. She does wonder how much time Gordon spends at home, though; sometimes he shows up at the Manor to talk to Harvey looking distinctly like he's slept in his clothes. Part of her wants to call his wife, but they're not really close, and she doesn't exactly want to start the "wives widowed by work" club. Not when Britta has been known to bring _both_ of her jobs home, and especially not when she'd probably end up using Mrs. Gordon as an unwitting information source.

From what Harvey tells her, Gordon had latched onto his suspicions about Alberto pretty quickly, and the police have been closing the net around him. It's only a matter of time before they catch him and the whole Holiday mess is behind Gotham for good. And even now, with Holiday still on the streets, it means that the boys can have more down time from their night job: no criminal wants to be the next victim, and nobody wants to get caught up in the increased police presence. All in all, the new year looks promising.

Britta smiles at her reflection as she puts her earrings in. She and Harvey are headed to a New Year's gala hosted by the Mayor, and the twins are spending some time with Roy Harper again, at Titans Tower. Not that Harvey knows that’s where they’re going. Jason had asked to go, too; he isn't officially Robin yet but his training is intensifying, and Robin has to know how to work with the Teen Titans. She'd relented after cautioning Dick and Rowan to keep an eye on him. They'd exchanged a glance Britta hadn't been comfortable questioning, and promised Jason wouldn't be lonely. Jason is under strict orders to call her if he needs to come back early. She's reasonably sure he won't call, but the option is there nonetheless. It wouldn't be fair to leave him stranded in New York, for any reason.

"I'm sure the kids are fine," Harvey says as he pokes his head into the room. He's dressed except for his tie, which is hanging loose around his neck. "A few days in Star City will do them good. They seem to be close to Queen's kid."

"Rowan especially," Britta mutters.

"You noticed, huh?"

"Kinda hard not to notice a giant hickey, Harvey."

Harvey laughs. "Especially when he wasn't even trying to hide it. Guess that means he really trusts you."

Britta elbows him. "And you."

"Well, if Rowan's busy with Roy, that means Dick will be free to entertain Jason," Harvey points out. "They'll be fine. They're great kids."

Britta bites her lip to keep from blurting out that there'll be plenty of girls for Dick to distract himself with, since Kory, Raven, and Donna don't celebrate Western holidays. Then again, she's sure that Donna is enough of a den mom to make sure Jason feels welcome. She's probably worrying too much, but they're her kids. She's entitled.

She leans forward to let Harvey put her necklace on for her, and then they head downstairs to wait for Bruce and Selina. It's not exactly clear which one of those two the Mayor wants to cosy up to more: Bruce at the bank, or Selina with her environmentalist contacts. Both would be useful to his campaign, and next year is an election year for Gotham. It's not the first time that Britta is thankful that Bruce stepped up and took over the bank side of things, but she's pretty sure she owes him a hug for it anyway.

And it's definitely the first time she's actually liked one of Bruce's girlfriends.

"Hey, Britta, Harvey," Selina says as Alfred shows them in. "How's married life treating you?"

"Why, planning on taking the plunge?" Harvey teases. Britta slaps him on the arm. It's been a grand total of two months; the last thing Bruce needs is to be spooked.

For his part, Bruce doesn't actually _look_ spooked. "It's a little early to be talking about it," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But hey, who knows what the future holds?"

"Isn't the caveman thing just _wonderful_?" Selina says dryly.

Britta laughs and links arms with her. "Better wise up, boys, or we might decide to run away together."

Bruce and Harvey make the exact same half-interested, half-weirded-out face, and Selina cracks up. "Keep dreaming," she says, patting Britta's arm. "Or having nightmares. I can't really tell, with that face."

The four of them pile into the car, and Britta catches Alfred's eye in the rearview mirror. He's pretty clearly trying not to laugh. Britta rolls her eyes and tilts her head at Bruce and Harvey. Alfred nods solemnly.

They chat idly on the ride to City Hall; Selina has a new project that she's trying to get donations for, and she's apparently hoping to find some environmentally-minded benefactors at the gala. Britta promises to take a look at the proposal and see if it's something that WE can get behind, or something that she can donate to personally. Given how excited Selina is, Britta's sure she'll be donating in one way or another.

City Hall has been done up beautifully, and Britta takes a moment to be thankful that she knows both that the Joker is safely in his cell in Arkham and that Helena is personally watching the gala tonight. Harvey makes his rounds with Jim Gordon, which leaves Britta and Bruce to tackle the financial bigwigs. The toughest one by far is going to be Daniels' widow.

"I'm not looking forward to this," Bruce mutters as she approaches. "What am I even supposed to say to her? 'Sorry your husband is dead and I have his job, but I swear it wasn't me'?"

Britta resists the urge to smack him on the back of the head, and pastes on a solemn expression. "Melissa, glad you could make it. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Yes, I just bet you are," she replies, eyeing Britta coldly. "How's married life, Mrs. Dent? I wouldn't know anymore."

Ouch.

"Mrs. Daniels," Bruce tries.

"And so the usurper speaks," she cries, flinging a hand at Bruce. "Tell me, Wayne, did you even wait for my husband's body to cool before making yourself at home in his chair?"

"Actually, I got the job _before_ he died," Bruce says tightly, "when he resigned."

"Resigned," she scoffs. "You pushed him out!"

"I advised him that doing business with-"

"Pleasure to see you as always," Britta cuts in. "Now if you don't mind, my brother and I are going to get some air." She grabs Bruce's arm and starts walking. He almost trips over his own feet in his haste to get away.

They don't stop until they're at the refreshment table on the other side of the room. Bruce heaves a sigh. "Well, that was worse than I was anticipating."

"She's grieving," Britta says. "She'll probably regret that before long."

"Yeah, maybe." Bruce stabs at the cheese platter, and grabs another drink. "Or maybe she knew exactly whose money was lining her husband's pockets and now she's pissed she can't get her hands on it anymore."

Britta snorts. "Now I'm really glad I got you away before you accused her to her face of being involved with the mob."

"It's this whole damn town," Bruce complains. "Even Dad had ties to Falcone, did you know that?"

"None of Gotham's old-money families have their hands clean," Britta agrees.

"And trying to change it is like taking your life into your hands," Bruce goes on. "Actually, scratch that. It _is_ taking your life into your hands."

"I know." Britta tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and tugs. "Come on, let's ditch for a while."

"Ditch?" He sounds so hopeful, and suddenly he's nine again, begging her to help him sneak a hot dog into the summer charity ball at WE. "Where are we going?"

"It's too cold to go outside, but we could pretend to give a damn about the new artworks they just installed."

"Art," Bruce says, leading her towards the doors. "I love art. Don't you just love art?"

Britta grins. "It sure is arty in here. Let's go get some culture."

"I don't think there's enough art in here for that," Bruce says, sighing loudly. "We'd need way more art."

"And a couple less half-melted ice sculptures."

Bruce nods. "We might be too picky for art."

"Oh no!" Britta claps her free hand to her chest. "Whatever else could we babble on about endlessly while not actually knowing a damn thing about the topic?" She pauses for a beat before grinning slyly. "Well, I guess we could talk about our love lives. Mine's pretty great; just got married. How's yours?"

Bruce ducks his head and smiles shyly. "It's... good. Really good."

Okay, see, that's interesting. Bruce has never been shy about the women he's seeing. Plural. Britta's never confirmed the story because she doesn't actually want the details, but the rumor mill is pretty consistent in claiming that he lost his virginity in a threesome.

She nudges him with her shoulder. "Tell big sis all about the pretty lady."

"Oh, come on!" Bruce protests. "You already know her, and Harvey's probably told you all kinds of stuff even I don't know yet."

Britta blinks. "You're really serious about her." He actually blushes at that. Britta has seen him laugh charmingly when he runs into two exes in public at the same time, but he's blushing for this. It's adorable.

"Crazier things have happened, big sis."

"I guess so." She pats his arm. "I just didn't think you were ready to grow up just yet."

"You're the one who's always saying sometimes it doesn't wait for when you're ready." He pauses, and then adds, "I'm going back to college in the new year. History and politics, and maybe a minor in some kind of administration."

"That's great, Bruce," Britta says, smiling up at him. "I'm proud of you."

Bruce shrugs. "I wasn't exactly proud of myself last summer. I'm lucky I didn't get arrested." 

Britta nods. She's aware of how close it was. If the whole "drunk and disorderly" thing had happened a few weeks earlier, Bruce would have been arrested for underage drinking; as it is, he's lucky he didn't get hauled in for destruction of public property.

Bruce shifts then, as uncomfortable as ever with skirting close to talking about emotions. "Selina thinks I should talk to someone."

"What do you think?" She definitely agrees with Selina, but she knows that it's not something she can push Bruce into. It won't help unless he wants it.

"I think last summer I got out of control. And a lot of that was..." Bruce trails off and scuffs his shoe against the floor like he's still ten years old. "I mean there's the obvious. Mom and Dad."

"Yeah." It's taken Britta a long time to forgive herself for not being there that night. She didn't have the training to do anything about it, not then, but it's still hard to let go.

"But I think maybe it's more than that," Bruce says. "I don't - I don't remember being happy, even before they died."

Oh, Bruce. Britta takes a deep breath. "Mom and Dad weren't… Mom was wonderful, but she and Dad weren't good together. It made living with them… hard."

Bruce nods. "That's why you made sure you graduated early, right?"

"That's why I went to college in Gotham," she corrects. "I didn't want to leave you alone."

Bruce looks like he wants to throw up. "Was Dad… I remember him yelling, sometimes."

"His work meant a lot to him," Britta says quietly. "Sometimes I thought it meant everything."

"More than Mom. More than us."

Britta shrugs. "I don't know. I never got the chance to ask."

Bruce touches his cheek, where there's a tiny silvery scar. He doesn't say anything, so Britta reaches out and takes his other hand.

It takes Bruce a moment to swallow. "I think... I think Dad put the stitches in. Why would he do that?"

"It could be that it was faster than taking you to the hospital." Or it could be that he didn't want to explain what had caused the gash in the first place.

Bruce squeezes her hand. "Could be. I don't know. I should remember."

"If you don't, there's probably a reason," she says gently.

He stands there and just breathes for a while, and she holds on, standing with him. "I'm going to talk to someone," he says finally.

"I can make some recommendations if you'd like." The last thing she wants is for someone with less-than-pure intentions messing around in Bruce's head.

Bruce drags her into a hug. "Thank you," he says into her hair.

"For what?" she asks, hugging back.

"Believing me."

Britta squeezes harder. "You're my brother. Of course I believe you." She sways with him a bit, like she used to do when she was nine and he was a not-so-little baby.

"There you are," someone says from behind them. Britta turns and sees Harvey and Selina walking towards them. "I can see tomorrow's headlines already: _Wayne Siblings Caught Casing Art Display_."

Britta catches Selina's eye, and they both crack up.

"What's so funny?" Bruce demands.

But that only makes matters worse. Selina Kyle, mostly-reformed cat burglar, hangs on to the arm of Harvey Dent, Gotham's DA, and laughs so hard her mascara starts running. And Britta, businesswoman by day and vigilante by night, has to clutch her stomach. Harvey got things perfectly backwards and he doesn't even know it.

"Well, come on," Harvey says when she and Selina have quieted to occasional giggles. "They're going to start the countdown to the new year. We didn't want you two to miss it."

He holds out his arm, and Britta takes it, but she keeps her grip on Bruce. The four of them head back down the hall to overlook the cut-price Emerald City that is Gotham.

-0-

The new year dawns bright and cold, not that it's surprising in any way. There's nothing shocking in the morning newspaper, which is a little more so. In fact, they almost make it to noon before the first bad news of the year comes calling.

Harvey answers his cell, and his face darkens like a storm blowing in over Gotham Harbor. He doesn't say much, just grabs a legal pad and starts jotting things down. When he hangs up, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "So, either we were really wrong about Alberto Falcone, or we were really right and he figured it out."

"He's dead?"

"According to his aunt, yes. But thus far there's no body."

Britta frowns. "Then why does she think he's dead?"

"She says that she heard a gunshot go off, and when she ran around the side of the boat they were all on for their New Year's celebration, she heard something hit the water." He sighs. "Gordon's got some pictures. Apparently Holiday left his signature there, too."

"He hasn't left his signature before, has he?" Britta says, frowning.

"He leaves little holiday-themed things," Harvey says. "There was a jack o'lantern on Halloween, the turkey at Thanksgiving… that kind of thing. It's a holiday memento. Real cute." He snorts.

"Do you need to go in to the office?"

Harvey looks frustrated. "I should probably go to the police station and talk to Jim. We need to figure out if someone offed Alberto, or if he faked it because we were getting too close."

"Alright." Britta drags him into a brief hug and kisses him on the cheek. "Take some of Alfred's cookies with you. Whoever's on shift at the station this weekend needs the sugar more than the boys and I do."

He squeezes her briefly before letting go. "Thanks, Britta. I don't know if I'll make it home for dinner, but I'll call to let you know, okay?"

Britta nods and heads back upstairs to get dressed, donning her Ugg boots just for the hell of it. The boys are still at Titans Tower, and while part of her is itching to check in, she's mostly okay with the idea of waiting for them to call her. They'll be home tomorrow anyway, so there's no need for her to worry. It does, however, mean that she has to figure out something else to do with her day. 

Then again, it's been a long time since she's had the luxury of being able to check in on Bat activities without making a flimsy excuse to Harvey first. Helena will want to know about the whole mess with Falcone, too; she might be able to help Harvey and Gordon with their theories, or be able to scare someone into giving up his location. This is Gotham; stranger things have happened. And Helena has an insider's perspective to offer; one Italian mob family is much like another.

It's definitely worth checking into, so she grabs her cell phone and sends a text. The last thing she wants to do is interrupt any new year's celebrations that Helena and Babs are having.

It takes half an hour, but Helena calls her back and they talk shop for a while. Helena hasn't heard anything on Alberto Falcone, but she promises to keep her eyes open and report back to Britta with anything she finds.

"Anything else you think I should know about?" Britta asks as they're wrapping up the call.

"Not right now," Helena says. "We've got things handled, and we'll keep you up to date."

Britta can't help teasing her a little. "We being you and Batgirl."

"Until further notice, yeah, that's our we," Helena says. There's a pause before she adds, "I can't believe that sentence just came out of my mouth."

Britta laughs. "Love makes you say crazy things."

"You're ruining the Bat's dark and brooding image right now, I hope you know that. How am I supposed to get into character?"

"Batman finds a way," Britta says. "Stay safe, Helena."

They hang up with a promise to swap intel later in the week, and Britta spends the rest of the afternoon curled up with her laptop, reading through Selina's proposal. She'd been right last night. It's something that WE can fund, and something that Britta can make a private donation to, as well. At some point she falls asleep upright, pressed into the corner of the couch. She half-wakes when Alfred comes in to rescue her laptop and give her a blanket, but then she's out again.

When she wakes up again, it's dark and Alfred is holding a phone. "It's Master Harvey," he says quietly.

"Thanks, Alfred." Britta takes the phone and tucks her blanket up under her chin. " 'Lo?"

"Hey," Harvey says. He sounds tired but not really angry. It's probably a good sign. "I wanted to call and check in. How are you doing?"

Britta stifles a yawn. "I'm good. Comfy."

"Good," he says. "How's kiddo? You two have a wild day without me around?"

"Party of the year," Britta says, smiling. "Not that it's much of a contest this early in. He and I spent the day reading Auntie Selina's proposal and napping."

Harvey sighs. "That does sound epic. You have no idea how much I'd love to join you."

"We saved you a spot on the sofa," she promises. "It'll be here when you get home."

"I'm heading back soon," Harvey promises. "There's nothing more I can do here; Gordon's men are dredging the harbor again tomorrow."

Britta yawns. "I'll keep your seat warm, and you can tell me about it when you get here. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Mmkay. Love you." Britta waits for Harvey's reply, then hangs up and stretches out on the sofa.

Harvey wakes her when he gets home, and the rest of the night consists of dinner and mindless television. It's nice to have time just for themselves, but at the same time, she misses the kids.

The relative peace doesn't last long. Jason comes back the next morning full of carefully-edited stories about the things he did and the friends he's starting to make. Dick and Rowan just swap identical, cryptic looks when Harvey asks how the trip went for them. It's relatively normal chaos, which is even nicer than the quiet she's had for the last couple of days. The five of them are really starting to feel like a family unit.

Things go back to normal pretty quickly. The boys go back to school and patrol after winter break, Harvey spends time putting the case against Alberto Falcone together for when they finally do catch him, and Britta does her best to balance watching over her Robins and Bat ladies while dealing with the jerks on the board at WE. It's all time-consuming, and before Britta knows it, it's time to head downtown for Jason's adoption hearing.

Jason sits quietly in the car on the way to the courthouse, which is pretty uncharacteristic. He's not exactly biting his fingernails, but it's clear he's nervous. Britta puts her arm around his shoulders, and he tucks in against her side.

"What if they don't let me stay?" he blurts out a few minutes later.

"You're definitely old enough that they'll take your wishes into account," Harvey reassures him. "And you've been living at the Manor for over a year. It's highly unlikely they'd remove you from a stable home."

"The hearing is set up to make sure that everyone involved knows what's going on, and what's expected of them," Britta adds. "They won't ask you anything hard, and they're not trying to trick you. They just want to make sure that staying with us is the best possible thing for you."

Not that Jason is the only one who's concerned. Between Britta's pregnancy and Harvey's upcoming election campaign, it's not impossible for the courts to decide they won't be able to give Jason enough attention. And she knows that if he's sent to another foster home he won't stay. It doesn't help that she's unearthed Jason's birth certificate during the adoption process, either; even if Jason hadn't wanted to see it, Britta now knows that Catherine Todd wasn't Jason's biological mother. A search for Sheila Haywood hadn't turned up much of note, though. She's just hoping that it won't come back to bite them in the ass later.

"Don't worry," Harvey says, breaking into Britta's thoughts as he reaches over to pat Jason's knee. "The counsellor and your case worker will both be there as witnesses. They'll tell the judge how great everything is, and we'll be out of there in no time."

"I'm just nervous," Jason mumbles. "I don't like courts and stuff."

"I'll let you in on a secret," Harvey says, leaning in close. "No-one likes courts, not even the judges. Too many rules, and too much focus on trying to break the rules."

"What about lawyers?" Jason asks suspiciously. "You're telling me you don't like going to court?"

"I like making sure the bad guys go to jail," Harvey says. "And the courts are how we make that happen. I don't really like the court itself, though."

Jason frowns at him, unconvinced.

"Look at it this way," Britta says. "Usually in court, someone is on trial. It means something bad happened, and the justice system is trying to make it right. There aren't any guarantees, though, and nobody likes putting so much time and effort into something they really believe in if they're not sure it's going to get results."

Jason's learning how that feels first-hand, and Britta can see her point land. He takes a deep breath and nods. "So we just have to convince the judge that I should stay, and that's it," he says firmly. "We can do that."

"We absolutely can," Britta agrees as the car comes to a stop in the parking lot of the courthouse. "Let's go make it official, kiddo."

Britta and Harvey flank Jason as they head up the courthouse steps, and he presses as close to them as he can without hugging or hand-holding. The lobby of the courthouse is open, with high ceilings and small windows. Jason seems to shrink into her and Harvey more with each echoing footstep. Harvey exchanges a glance with her over the top of Jason's head, and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"So," Britta says, reaching down and taking Jason's hand. "Where do we want to go for lunch after this? We can go somewhere fancy if you want, Jason. We're already dressed up."

"Or," Harvey says, grinning down at Jason, "we can go to a diner in our fancy clothes. Burgers and cheese fries in suits and ties."

Jason snorts. "Make it nachos and you have a deal."

"I can work with that," Harvey says. "There's a place a few blocks from here that's got great food, as long as you like your food fried, smothered in melted cheese, and served with french fries."

"Sounds like my kind of place," Jason says, finally cracking a smile.

The family court judge is a smiling older woman who reminds Britta of Alfred. She goes through a series of questions with each of them, then asks the case worker and the family therapist for their opinions. Less than an hour after walking into the building the judge is offering to let Jason bang the gavel to pronounce himself officially adopted.

Jason cracks the gavel down, beaming. All the nervous energy he's been building up over the morning looks set to overload, so Britta drags him into a hug to stop him from doing a backflip or something. He hugs her back enthusiastically, then tears himself away to throw his arms around Harvey.

The three of them stumble out into the hall, and the door has barely closed behind them when Jason lets out a whoop. "She said yes, she said yes!"

Britta is smiling as much as Jason is. "Do you want to call your brothers and let them know?"

"Brothers," Jason repeats, laughing a little. "Yeah. Let's call my brothers."

Britta hands over her cell phone as they climb back into the car. Jason chatters excitedly to Dick and Rowan as Harvey gives Alfred the address of the restaurant, and Britta smiles as they start moving, leaning back against the seat.

-0-

Britta is pleased to find that nothing really changes after Jason's adoption is made official. She's thought of him as her kid for almost a year now, and he's been Dick and Rowan's _little wing_ for almost that long. Other than a few more "brother noogies" than before, life is pretty much the same. Harvey continues spending long hours at the office, but he rarely misses a meal at home.

For the most part, Britta is spending her time convincing the board that she's perfectly fine to keep running things at WE. The more her stomach grows, the more some of the older members of the board push to have her go on early medical leave "for the good of your family." Never mind that what's good for her family is making sure nobody runs the family business into the ground; it is still her name on the building, after all. Luckily, she's got Lucius Fox on her side, and as long as that's true the board is an annoyance, not an actual problem.

The boys settle back into the rhythm of school, training, and weekend patrols. Having that routine is great for everyone; it means that Britta knows where all of her family members are at any given time. It's part of why she startles when Jason bursts into her office one evening about two weeks after his adoption. It's a school night, so the three boys have been in the Batcave monitoring police channels, not out on patrol.

"Britt," Jason says, clearly spooked. "Something big happened. Really big. I - you should see this."

Britta pushes herself upright and waddles down the stairs, Jason hovering at her elbow.

"Rowan's listening in," he says as they descend. "I think Dick's trying to get in touch with Babs and Helena. I ran up to get you."

"What do we know, Robin?" she says quietly, so her voice won't echo and drown out the comms.

"Shots fired at La Pastaria, with multiple victims down," Dick says.

Shit. That restaurant is owned by Sal Maroni. "Any idea who-"

"Batgirl is on her way, ETA seven minutes," Dick says from the communications station. "Batman is wrapping something up on the docks, and will then head for the restaurant. ETA unknown, but we'll be kept in the loop."

"Good." She turns to Rowan, who takes off his headset. "What's the situation?"

"SWAT have the area cordoned off. The gunman fled the scene."

"Casualties?"

"Can't be sure until they clear the building for the paramedics."

"Batgirl says there was a Maroni Family gathering tonight," Dick cuts in. "The body count is probably going to be high."

Britta draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Holiday. It's Falcone."

Rowan curses. "No-one's seen Alberto Falcone since New Year's. Are you sure-"

"There's no body, and Harvey had a solid case before he conveniently disappeared," Britta says flatly.

"Um." Dick clears his throat. "We have a bigger problem than that. Batman's on the line and she says - she says we have to be prepared for an all-out gang war." He presses a button and Helena's voice echoes through the cave.

"Maroni's ego won't allow him to take this lying down. The only reason a war didn't erupt months ago is because Falcone's people were mostly picked off one by one, but his business as a whole wasn't affected. But the restaurant is Maroni's key source of money laundering."

"And without it he's crippled," Britta concludes. "You're right; he'll be out for blood."

"Oh, yeah," Helena confirms. "He won't care that Holiday is working outside of the Falcone operation. He'll just hit back, and the bodies will start piling up."

It's a nightmare in the making. "Batgirl, Batman, is there anything you can do on-scene tonight? If not, we should all meet up at base and figure out what our next move should be."

The radio clicks and then Babs says, "Time to clear out; the DA just arrived."

"Well that answers that," Helena replies. "See you at HQ in twenty minutes."

"Copy," Dick says, shutting the speaker off. 

There's a minute of silence before Rowan breaks it. "What are we going to do, Britta?"

"We're going to get to work, and we're going to warn Leslie to keep her head down." Mandatory reporting of gunshot wounds at the hospitals means the gangs will turn to private clinics wherever they can get away with it.

"Right," Jason says. "Is there anything we should do before Babs and Helena get back here? Do we need, I don't know, meeting notes or something?"

Britta sighs. She's tried so hard to keep them out of the case, for everyone's sake, but the Holiday murders just keep getting worse. "I think it's time I fill everyone in and we join the manhunt."

She's expecting some excitement; usually, when she brings the Robins in on a case, they give high-fives or cheer or some other silly thing. This time, though, they all just nod and move to the conference table. She runs down the basics while they wait for Helena and Babs. They don't have any new insight to offer, but that's fine. Britta already knows that their target is Alberto Falcone; they just have to figure out a way to catch him before he stirs up even more trouble. If that's even possible at this point.

Jason sits down and tucks one of his legs up against his chest, his face stormy. "My father used to be a runner for a local boss. If Maroni needs to clean his money he'll find a way - track racing, or shipping it through Atlantic City, probably."

Rowan nods. "To get his hands on non-sequential bills. That way it's harder to prove he's stockpiling cash."

"He'll find a way, yeah," Dick says. "But it's not about the laundering, not really. It's the whole eye for an eye thing. Maroni thinks Falcone hit him, so he's going to hit back. Boom, gang war."

"And gang wars mean innocent bystanders," Britta adds. "We've got to find Alberto before he makes it worse, and see if there's anything we can do to minimize the damage that the Falcones and Maronis are going to cause."

"What I don't get is why he stayed," Dick says. "He could've gotten away clear a month ago, but instead he stuck around and kicked the hornet's nest."

Rowan's scowl is starting to match Jason's. "He's a sociopath. He doesn't care what happens to other people as long as he gets what he wants."

"I'm not so sure what that is anymore," Britta says with a sigh. "It looked like he was building up to taking out his father, but now..."

"Now he's gone big. Grandiose spectacle, in public, with a high body count." Dick snaps his fingers, just as Helena and Babs walk in. "He's a drama queen; he wants to be noticed."

"That does make sense," Britta says thoughtfully. "He knows we have a case against him, and knows we don't believe he's dead. He could just be trying to take out as many people as he can before we catch up to him."

Helena snorts. "Charming."

Babs and Helena join them at the table, and they sit for a while, trying to figure out what their next move will be. Nobody has heard anything about Alberto Falcone's whereabouts, but now that he's poked his head out of whatever hole he was hiding in, it'll only be a matter of time before someone knows something.

Alfred comes down before long with a tray of cheese and crackers, and the news that Harvey's staying in town with Jim Gordon for the night. It's not surprising; Gordon's house is closer to Harvey's office, and there's safety in numbers. Britta nods as everyone dives into their snack.

"I think that's all we're going to get accomplished tonight," she says, reaching for a cracker. "Thanks, Alfred. We'll be up soon." Her energy runs out fast now that she's in her third trimester, and she'd rather none of the boys get detentions for falling asleep in class tomorrow.

Babs seems to catch on; she claps Helena on the arm and nods at the exit. "We'll check in," she promises as they leave. "We'll find him, Britta. Don't worry."

"Damn right we will," Britta agrees, smiling her Bat smile. She's been told by more than one reliable source that it's kind of terrifying, which is just how she likes it. She manages to get out of her chair. "Come on, boys. Let's go get a good night's sleep so we can find Falcone."


	2. Chapter 2

The next couple of weeks are rough. Between Harvey staying downtown more often than not, the boys chomping at the bit to be allowed out to search for Alberto Falcone, and Britta's increasing baby-related tiredness, everyone in the family is worn a little thin by the time Valentine's Day rolls around. But then Harvey smiles at her and tells her he's booked a table for dinner and things feel a little lighter.

Britta has the distinct feeling that maternity dresses are made more for coverage than for style, but she manages to get herself dressed and downtown in time to meet Harvey. She's so full of baby she knows she won't be able to eat all that much, but just spending an hour together is precious.

"You look great," Harvey says as she gets out of the car, leaning in to kiss her hello.

"If you say I'm glowing, I'm going to get mad," Britta warns, smiling.

"I know, I know; you're not a nightlight."

"Even if you wouldn't be able to miss me in the dark," she grumbles. It's weird being such a big, slow target.

They take their seats, and she sighs over the seafood portions of the menu. One day, soon...

"I'm having chicken," Harvey announces.

Britta groans. "Don't limit yourself on my account, Harvey. They've got great lobster here." The steak is reasonably good too, even if she has to have it more well-done than she usually likes.

It's really nice to just eat and talk. Some days she feels like she hasn't seen Harvey in forever, and while she knows that the Holiday thing is huge, she still wishes she could get a little more face time. Hopefully it'll all be over soon, and Harvey can come home. And hopefully one day they'll be able to have a dinner at home without the boys doing impressions of chimpanzees.

She reaches for his hand after their plates are taken away. "This was nice."

Harvey rubs his thumb over the back of her hand and opens his mouth to reply just as his phone starts ringing. He squeezes his eyes shut and groans before opening them, sighing. "That's Gordon's ringtone. He knows I'm out with you, so… I should probably get it."

"It's fine, go ahead."

He squeezes her hand before letting go and grabbing his phone from his pocket. "Dent here."

Britta signals for the check while he listens. The waiter shoots Harvey a dirty look as he takes Britta's credit card, and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The slight double-take when he spots the name on the card makes up for it, though.

She does her best not to listen in on the phone call, but it's hard to miss Harvey's side of the conversation. It's mostly acknowledgments, but then he sighs. "Yeah. I'm still out with Britt, but I'll be there as soon as I can."

She waits until they're outside, waiting for Harvey's car to be brought around, before asking what's up.

Harvey snorts. "It seems Alberto Falcone finally made his move. Batman had to save him from being beaten to death by his own sister."

"His sister?" Britta can only imagine Helena's internal struggle there - to save Alberto, or to let sibling nature take its course?

"He went after their father, and apparently Sofia didn't take it very well."

That would do it. She shakes her head. "And now you have to get to the crime scene, and Alfred thought we were coming home together." She pauses, wondering what his reaction's going to be. "I can go with you."

"I'm sorry, I - what?" Harvey blinks at her.

"The sooner you get there, the better, right?" she asks, shrugging. "You said Batman had to pull his sister off of her. I'm assuming they'll both be restrained at this point. It's probably safer to be there than anywhere else right now."

Harvey shakes his head and huffs out a sigh. "I know you don't mind shop talk at home, but this is something else."

"You've spent a lot of time listening to me talk about mergers and budgets," Britta reminds him. "And hey, I could never turn down the opportunity to see the great district attorney in his element, could I?"

"Well," Harvey replies as the car pulls up. "I guess there's not much point in saying no."

She smiles sweetly. "You spoil me, darling."

"And you continue to surprise me, even though I've known you for almost a decade."

"I aim to please," she replies, climbing into the car. 

A traffic cop waves them through, and Harvey parks next to a couple of patrol cars.

"You mind sitting here for a few minutes?" Harvey asks. "I just want to make sure the scene is totally secure before you get out."

Britta grins at him. "Sure, poppa bear."

He grins back and leans in to kiss her quickly before getting out of the car. Britta waits until he's behind the next car over before slipping her hand into her purse and pulling out a communicator. It looks like a regular phone, mostly so she can take it with her in public without risking strange tech being found on her person. She hits a few buttons, dials in the unlock sequence, and flicks through the presets until she finds the one she's looking for. It beeps a few times, and she lifts it to her ear, scanning the nearby rooftops. "I'm on scene. What's going on?"

Helena snorts. "Alberto stepped out with his gun. Sofia punched him in the face and he started crying."

"Crying," Britta repeats. "Tell me he didn't drop the guns."

"He had to, so he could cradle his broken nose."

"The Holiday killer, scourge of the underworld," Britta snorts. "How did it take us so long to catch him?"

"It gets better," Helena replies, clearly amused. "As the police were cuffing him to take him in, he was yelling about how he wanted to press charges for assault."

Britta laughs so hard she gets the hiccups.

"Anyway, I think we've wrapped this one up pretty solidly," Helena says. "Gonna have to thank Robin-the-youngest for his insight about going out with a bang." She pauses. " _And_ a whimper."

Britta keeps on laughing, covering her mouth with her hand when she sees a detective look her way. She turns her head slightly so he can see the phone, then shrugs apologetically. Crime scene, right. But hey, at least this time no-one died.

"I see tall, dark, and handsome heading your way," Helena says. "I'll stick to the shadows and keep an eye out, but BG and I took care of everything, and now that the cops are here the crime rate is at an all-time low."

"Thanks for the warning. Tell Batgirl to let the terrible trio know."

"Will do," Helena says.

Britta hangs up just as Harvey opens the door. "The boys want to throw you a victory party. Well, except for Dick. He wanted me to say that he's very disappointed in both of us."

"Disappointed?"

"Crime scenes aren't his romantic ideal, I guess," she says, grinning. "What's the news?"

"Holiday is in transit already. Apparently he was loudly insisting on filing assault charges against his sister." Harvey smiles tightly, his _got you now, shithead_ smile. "As DA it's my duty to pursue justice, and make sure any eyewitnesses are thoroughly briefed."

Britta snorts. Apparently Alberto doesn't realize that all the witnesses to the assault will also be witnesses to his murder attempt.

"And so the criminal mastermind is brought to heel," she says dryly. "Did the sister at least give him a black eye?"

"Two of 'em, to go with his broken nose. And a suspected fracture in his cheekbone."

Britta whistles. "Apparently Batman took his time."

"Or Sofia was just that mad," Harvey says. "She might have been a target too, or she might be just that pissed that Alberto was after dear old Dad."

"Or that, yeah," Britta agrees. But she's still going to have a word with Helena. Unnecessary injuries to suspects leave Gotham PD open to false lawsuits. "So, what now? Is it safe for me to get out of the car?" She grins. "Do I get to see you walking around with a magnifying glass and smoking a pipe?"

Harvey laughs. "Of course, Watson."

"Well, this I can't miss," she says, unbuckling her belt. "Lead on, Sherlock."

Harvey's in his element, even if the doctrine of separation of powers means he's pretty much only here to observe. It's a nice change being on this side of the law for once, and seeing how all the different branches and divisions interact. He never strays far from her side, though she can tell he pretty much wants to talk to everyone present. He's thorough like that, and naturally sociable; watching him at work, suddenly it's not so surprising that he handles being part of her very public life just as well as he handles campaigning.

They spend half an hour walking around the crime scene before Harvey gets to Jim Gordon. He looks just as tired as Britta knows Harvey is, but there's a smile on his face. The two of them shake hands, and Gordon jokes about his wife killing him when he gets home.

"At least you weren't out dressed to the nines when you got the call," Harvey says, grinning. "Luckily for me, Britta didn't mind tagging along."

"What can I say? This is less soul-crushing than a board meeting."

"For some reason, I don't doubt you," Gordon says, snorting. "We're about to wrap up here and head back to the station for interrogation, round one, and I'm afraid that's not a spectator sport, Ms. Wayne. We can get a squad car to take you home if you'd like?"

"Thanks, but the boys would never let me hear the end of it. I wouldn't put it past Rowan to change my ringtone to Smooth Criminal," Britta jokes. "I'll get Alfred to pick me up from the station."

"Kids," Gordon says, shaking his head. "Well, we can at least find you a comfortable chair to sit in while we get started."

"Oh, Commissioner, you know how to keep a pregnant woman happy," she replies, smiling. "I'll call Alfred from the car. I shouldn't need a place to sit for more than half an hour."

"Sure thing," Gordon says as he starts walking towards his squad car. "I'll see you two downtown in a little while."

Harvey walks back towards the car with her, but hesitates as Britta lowers herself into the passenger's seat. "I can drive you back home," he offers. "The station won't be very comfortable."

"You'd miss some of the interrogation," Britta points out. "Don't worry about it, Harvey. As long as I can put my feet up, I'll be fine."

"If you're sure," he says.

Britta smiles. "I'll make the boys give me a foot rub when I get home," she promises. "And Jason will probably suggest ice cream sundaes without any prompting."

That gets him to crack a smile. "Okay, you win. Again."

"I usually do," Britta says, grinning.

She calls Alfred as Harvey gets into the driver's seat, and he promises to get to the police station as quickly as possible. He's there barely fifteen minutes after Britta and Harvey get there, so she climbs into the car and sinks gratefully into the padded seat.

"Thanks for coming, Alfred," she sighs, kicking out of her shoes and wiggling her toes. Just because she can't see them anymore doesn't mean they don't hurt. "You're the best."

"So I've been told, and I rarely disagree with my employers," Alfred says. "Rest, Miss Britta. We'll be home shortly."

"Will do," Britta replies, leaning back and closing her eyes.

-0-

It takes a little while for the flurry around Alberto Falcone's arrest and charging to die down, but within a week everyone's mood has improved dramatically. Harvey comes home pretty much every night, the boys relax back out of their state of hypervigilance, and even the baby seems to be less likely to wake Britta up at four in the morning.

Britta starts making noises about getting the nursery set up before she gets too big to walk around, and Harvey and the boys throw themselves into it wholeheartedly. She has to mediate an argument between Dick and Jason over paint swatches, but once that's taken care of, the rest of it falls into place nicely.

Britta's joints have started loosening, which makes her hands feel disconcertingly mushy, but it's a good excuse to spend at least an hour a day in the pool. Jason has taken to glaring at the Graysons when either of them looks like he might be able to crack a joke at her expense. Sometimes that kid is so damn sweet she doesn't know how to handle it.

Britta goes for a float in the pool while Dick and Rowan finish putting together the rocking chair, which is the last piece of furniture needed for the baby's room. Harvey had seemed a little worried about putting them in charge of something that Britta's going to be sitting on, but she's seen them dismantle guns with broken fingers and pick the lock on a door in less than three seconds. She's not really worried.

She's just gotten into the pool when her phone rings. Jason, ever her faithful shadow, picks it up and frowns at the screen. "It's Helena."

Britta wades over to the edge. "Can you answer it for me, hon?" Wet fingers and touch-screens don't mix.

Jason slides his fingers over the screen as Britta leans on the edge of the pool. "Hey, it's Jason." He listens for a minute before nodding. "Yeah, hang on."

"What's wrong?" Britta says shortly.

"Whoa, hey, nothing," Helena says. "I heard you wanted to talk to me." She pauses. "On second thought, that probably means something's wrong. What's wrong?"

Britta bites back a sigh. "I wanted to have a word to you about Alberto Falcone's broken face."

Helena doesn't bother holding back. "He deserved it, Britt. Don't tell me you think otherwise."

"That's not the point. You know his father has money and connections. The last thing we need is for him to go free because his lawyer alleges police brutality."

"There's no chance of that," she says confidently. "There are a ton of witnesses who saw his sister beating the crap out of him. I'm pretty sure it's on camera, even."

"And if his sister testifies otherwise, and Carmine pays off enough witnesses to give her story credibility, what then? You and Babs can't take the stand."

"Cameras," Helena repeats, but she sounds less sure. "Look, it was a field decision, okay? I'll try to be more careful in the future."

"That's all I ask. We can't always assume that video footage will be allowed in as evidence, especially when the defendant has the Falcones' level of money to invest in a lawyer."

Helena snorts. "You sound like a lawyer."

"I did marry one," Britta points out, amused. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to talk about. How's Babs?"

There's an awkward silence for a minute, and then Helena sighs. "Fine, as far as I know. She wasn't a fan of me letting Alberto take his licks either."

Britta raises an eyebrow, but keeps her voice neutral. "Did she leave?"

"She's, ah... considering her options. You should probably call her."

That doesn't sound promising. "Thanks, Helena. I'll do that."

Briita holds the phone out and Jason takes it, hanging it up for her. She sighs, and he looks up at her, worried. "Is everything okay? Should I get Dick and Rowan?"

Britta shakes her head. "There's no case, just some people-wrangling to do." Who would've thought that working at WE would be so useful when it comes to managing her growing off-the-books team of vigilantes?

Jason doesn't look convinced. "You sounded worried on the phone. Did something happen? Are Helena and Babs okay?"

"They'll live. Although I don't think they'll be living together."

"Oh." Jason's face falls a little. Britta remembers what it was like to want the people you love to be together and stay happy, and she sighs. At least Jason has her and Harvey in his life now.

"Hey," Britta says, getting his attention. She grins. "I bet I can still beat you from this end of the pool to the other end."

Jason snorts. "Yeah, maybe if I let you have a head start."

"Well, I can't really kick anymore," Britta says, considering. "If you don't kick and I don't kick, then we'll be even."

"It's your funeral." Jason takes a few steps back to get a running start and then dive bombs into the pool.

Britta laughs as he bobs up, grinning. His hair is plastered to his face, and she's kind of surprised he can see through it with how thick it is. It's long when it's wet and the curls fall out.

"I'm already beating you there," he calls, kicking his legs up to lock his ankles. He starts pulling himself across the length of the pool.

"You're a terrible human being!" Britta yells after him, grinning, and then she takes off.

He beats her, but that's no surprise; he had almost half the pool's length as a head start. Britta demands a rematch and they tie, which of course demands several more rematches. By the time they climb out of the pool, they've agreed that they’re about evenly matched when it comes to no-kicking swimming.

They walk back into the house, and Harvey smiles at them from the top of the stairs. "Have a good swim?"

Jason preens. "I kicked ass."

"I thought we just agreed that we tied!" she says, mock-outraged.

"I thought you told me pandering was sexist!" Jason quips back, grinning.

"I hate it when he quotes me at me," Britta says, turning to Harvey. "How goes the construction project?"

Harvey shrugs. "I think it'll hold, but I came down to get the little general to test it out."

Britta laughs. It's true, Jason's good at finding destruction points.

"Shower first," Harvey says as Jason pumps his fist and heads for the nursery. "You smell like pool, kiddo."

"O- _kay_ ," Jason says, sighing an almost Dick-drama-level sigh as he turns and heads for his bedroom.

Harvey snorts. "Wow, thirteen hit hard, didn't it?"

"I'm counting the days until he's too cool to be seen with us," Britta confesses.

"We'll have the secret weapon," Harvey says, patting Britta's stomach. "I'm pretty sure as long as we have baby cuddles, Jason will stick close by."

"True, true," Britta says, smiling. She starts walking towards their room; she really needs a shower, too. "So I was thinking while Jason was cheating at swim races. Why don't we invite the Gordons over for dinner? A celebration for finally catching Holiday."

"Hey, that'd be great," Harvey says, smiling. "Would you mind if we invited Babs along, too? I've heard she's… going through something." He waves his hand vaguely. "Might do her some good to get out."

Britta kisses him on the cheek. "That's a great idea, you big softie."

"Don't let the criminals of Gotham know," Harvey says solemnly. "I'll never be respected again."

"As long as the voters still love you, you'll be fine."

"In that case, I should kiss more babies," Harvey says thoughtfully before bending over and kissing the swell of Britta's stomach. "There. I'm set."

She ruffles his hair, laughing at his half-hearted protests.

"Anyway, your shower awaits," Harvey says as he stands back up, gesturing grandly at the bedroom door. "I'll call Jim while you're getting clean and set something up for the weekend. How's that sound?"

"Hmm." Britta tilts her head, like she's giving it careful consideration. "You'll do." She breezes past him, and Harvey smacks her on the ass.

It feels like forever since they've had the energy to just... play around with each other. Harvey has a long road ahead preparing for Alberto's trial, and the whole family's going to go through upheaval when the baby arrives, but it feels like they're winning.

She turns back at the end of the hall, blowing him a kiss, and Harvey snorts.

"I'll see you when you're done in there," he promises, and she nods and walks into the bathroom.

She's a little winded from the pool-race, so she grabs the folding chair that's taken up semi-permanent residency and sets it up in the shower stall. She strips out of her swimsuit and turns the water on as warm as she's allowed to. Yet another reason to look forward to the birth of Baby Dent: full-temperature showers. That said, she's glad they still have two months to prepare. As long as Jason deems the chair safe for use by any and all who might sit in it, the furniture will be finished, but that doesn't mean they're ready.

Britta's PA is working overtime trying to make sure they get through as much financial administrivia as possible before she has to go on maternity leave. She's secretly hoping to be one of those women who can work right up until the day before she gives birth, because she hates the idea of leaving Lucius at a disadvantage. They've tried to clear out most of Gotham's old school from the Board of Directors, but she knows at least some of the people left are just more circumspect about disliking their female CEO and black CFO. On top of WE-related things, there are a few appearances that she needs to make as Britta Wayne, Gotham society queen. Apparently being pregnant isn't enough to get her out of that. She's already got a meeting scheduled with Harvey and Ethel to talk about the Baby Dent exclusive they're negotiating with People. And speaking of scheduling, she still needs to figure out where she and Harvey are going to find the time to go to antenatal classes. There's a ton to do, and even with two months until her due date, Britta isn't sure she's got enough time.

She sits in the chair and lets the water wash over her; she's supposed to be watching her stress levels, but all the advice in the world about "not borrowing trouble from the future" doesn't mean anything when her immediate present is so jam-packed. There's definitely no room to think about the twins turning sixteen next month, or Harvey's election campaign kicking off shortly after her due date, or Jason starting high school in September. Britta rolls her shoulder to release some tension and smiles wryly. And she'd thought being Batman would he hard; it's got nothing on being a CEO and a wife and a mother.

Now there's a horrifying thought: how long is it going to take to get back into shape after having the baby? How soon is she going to want to get back out in the field? How soon are they going to need her, whether she's ready or not? Helena and Babs had assured her that they'd be able to take care of things until she was ready to come back, but if whatever happened between them is going to affect their ability to work together, she might have to push her schedule up. She won't know for sure until she talks to Babs, but hopefully she'll be able to get those details when they have dinner.

Britta shuts off the water and calls for Harvey so he can dry her back. Twisting around is a lot trickier than it used to be. He comes in and helps her out of the stall, drying her back and offering to get her lower legs, which she's mostly taken to letting drip-dry. She smiles as she grabs the vanity for balance. There's a lot going on, yeah, but at least she doesn't have to face it alone.

Harvey sits on the bed and watches her get dressed, only laughing a little when her shirt gets stuck halfway. He tugs it down firmly, and she rewards him with a kiss.

"Let's go check out the boys' handiwork."

"Let's go see if the rocking chair withstood the Todd Quality Control Test, you mean," Harvey says, taking her hand with a smile. "I'm in."

-0-

The doorbell rings late on Sunday afternoon, and Dick jumps up to answer it before Alfred can emerge from the kitchen. Britta notices him checking his hair in the hallway mirror on his way through and snorts to herself. There's no way he's going to charm Babs into anything, but it'll be amusing to watch him try.

"I'm sorry about the short notice, but my wife couldn't make it," Gordon says as he and Babs step into the front hall.

Harvey reaches out to shake Gordon's hand. "Everything's okay, I hope?"

"Yeah, everything's gonna be fine," Gordon says. "Junior's got a cold and two molars coming in, so Barbara decided keeping him home was the better part of valor tonight."

"Poor little guy," Britta says, leading the way to the dining room. "Why don't you choose a bottle of wine to take home for your wife, Jim."

"That would be great," Gordon says, smiling. "Kid's got a bit of a grumpy streak. The wine will be much appreciated."

Britta smiles back at him. She has at least some idea how much kids can drive you crazy, even when you love them more than life.

"Shall I show you to the wine cellar now, Commissioner, or would you prefer to eat first?" Alfred says as they enter the dining room. "Guest's choice, of course."

Gordon waves a hand. "Harvey can show me later. We have some things to discuss anyhow." He shoots her an apologetic look. "If you don't mind me borrowing your husband for a little shop talk, that is."

"I'm sure Babs and I can find something to talk about," Britta says, smiling at Babs. She looks… kind of raw, Britta decides. Apparently the breakup with Helena hadn't been an easy one.

Babs smiles back. "We should talk about Jason's tutoring," she volunteers. "He's making great progress, honestly, but I've got a few suggestions."

"Not more tutoring," Jason groans, dropping his head to the table. "I'm doing my homework, I swear."

"Yeah, but if we keep working together, you'll probably blow Dick and Rowan's SAT scores out of the water," Babs says, grinning.

Rowan splutters. "Hey! We haven't even taken them yet! How do you know he'd do better?"

Babs slides an arm around Jason's shoulders and tosses her hair like she's wearing her uniform. "Because he's working with me, and people who work with me never lose."

Dick looks at her with wounded eyes that have melted lesser teachers. Babs just smiles.

"You're welcome to sit in on study sessions," she says sweetly. "But you'd have to actually study, not just laugh at Jason's tutoring misery." Or stare at Babs, which is what Britta's betting that raised eyebrow is indicating.

"Yeah, well, we'll see," Rowan says before Dick can stick his foot in his mouth. "After we eat, though."

Dinner is delicious, as always, and Harvey and Gordon's excitement over trial prep is kind of adorable. Britta's not entirely surprised to see Babs paying close attention to the conversation; she's said before that she might want to get into law, and there's no better person to model yourself after than Gotham's beloved DA.

"Thank you, Alfred, this was wonderful," Harvey says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Now if you'll excuse us, Commissioner Gordon and I have a bottle of wine to pick out."

"Have fun," Britta says as they stand. "Babs and I will probably go up to my office so we can talk about tutoring." She turns to Babs and raises an eyebrow. "What are the odds I can talk you into SAT prep for Rowan and Dick?"

"I accept payment in hard liquor," Babs jokes, grinning at the way Jim Gordon sputters.

"For those two, I'll get you whatever you want," Britta says. She leans over and stage-whispers, "But we have to keep it a secret."

"Why don't we have a chat about conspiracies," Gordon says as he and Harvey turn to leave. "And how to roust 'em out."

Dick lets out a melodramatic sigh. "Tell me you're not going to make us spend the whole summer studying."

Babs smiles sweetly. "Do you want me to lie to you?"

"Yes, please," Rowan mutters.

"You'll be fine," Babs says, patting his shoulder as she passes his seat. "Look at it this way: prepping now means you'll only have to take it once later."

"In other words, tough luck, losers." Jason sticks his tongue out at them and shoves up out of his seat, making a run for the den.

Britta laughs and leads Babs to her office. It's soundproofed and she sweeps regularly for bugs; even though this is probably a Cave-type of discussion, it's just as secure to have it up here. She gestures to one of the chairs and shuts the door behind them She moves to sit behind her desk, pulling up the security feed for the hallway leading to the door. She doesn't love spying on her own family, but it's necessary sometimes.

Babs stares at the corner of Britta's desk. "Hel and I… we had a fight. A big one."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you okay?"

"Mostly?" Babs smiles weakly. "I think I knew it was coming. What she believes, what I believe… we don't see things the same way." She hesitates a little before pushing through. "We talked a while ago about her reining it in on the streets, and she agreed. And then Falcone happened."

Britta sighs. "And you found out the hard way that she hadn't listened to a word you said. That can't have been easy."

"Like I said, it was a big fight." She shrugs. "The neighbors threatened to call the cops. I told them not to bother, because I was heading to the Commissioner's house to let him know personally."

"Bet that scared the pants off a few busy-bodies."

Babs snorts. "Well, I'm pretty sure Mr. Mendez now thinks I've been spying on everyone in the building for six months, so there's that."

"Not that you would ever do such a thing." Britta grins at her, and pulls out a notepad. "So have you thought about where you want to go from here? I assume you'll need some distance, so Dick can patrol with Helena for now if you'd like." Not Rowan, though; he and Helena would probably bring out the worst in each other.

"About that." Babs takes a deep breath. "I'd appreciate switching the patrol schedule up, yes, but…"

"But?" Britta prompts gently.

"But when you get back in the field, I want out," Babs says steadily.

Well, it's not like Britta didn't see that one coming. "Is this about having more time for your schoolwork, or something more?"

"College is fine."

"That's good to hear."

"I'm going to declare a criminology major, but..." Babs takes a deep breath, and looks down at her hands. "What I really want is to go to law school. And once I'm done with that, I can't sit the bar exam in good conscience if I'm actively breaking the law all the time."

"I understand."

Babs looks up. "You do?"

"Yes, Babs, I do. The longer you do this kind of work, the harder it is to stop. If it's not what you want, then the sacrifices aren't worth it."

Babs almost seems to slump in relief. "I still… I'd like to stay involved, at least while I'm in school. I've been thinking about running a more organized kind of ground support, actually."

Britta clicks her pen. "Tell me what you have in mind, and we'll figure it out."

They talk for a while. Babs outlines her ideas, and Britta helps her fill in a few of the details, but it's well-planned enough for Britta to know that Babs has been thinking about changing her role for a while. It's a great idea, really, and it's going to be incredibly helpful once Babs gets things up and running.

She wraps things up when Harvey shows up on the monitor, poised to knock on the door of the study, and wishes Babs luck. The watery smile she gets in return tells her she's making the right call, even though she's going to miss working closely with her.

"Come in," Britta calls when Harvey knocks. She turns back to Babs and smiles. "So we'll talk more about SATs when summer hits?"

"Right," Babs says. "I'll start getting things put together, and then we can figure out how often I'll need to torture the twins."

"How often you _want_ to torture them," Harvey corrects.

"Or myself," Babs replies. "Jason's a great kid to work with. I'm pretty sure Dick and Rowan are going to make my life a living hell, at least a little bit."

Harvey waits for Babs to stand up, and then holds out his hand. "I've been so caught up in work I never got a chance to thank you."

"You're welcome," Babs says shaking his hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't find more information."

"Sometimes it just isn't there to be found." Harvey gives her a tight smile and lets go of her hand. "At least now I have some idea where I came from."

"Right," Babs says. "Well, if you ever need something else looked up, you know where to find me."

They walk Gordon and Babs to the door, and Harvey slips his arms around Britta’s waist as they watch the car pull out.

Britta smiles at him when the taillights fade. "Did you two make it to the wine cellar, or just dive into trial preparations?"

"Oh, we managed both." Harvey presses a kiss to her temple, and then frowns. "I got the feeling things aren't all that rosy with his wife, though."

"Oh, no," Britta says. "Are they - do you think…"

Harvey sighs. "I think he forgot it was Valentine's Day until we got to the station."

"Ah," Britta winces. "I'm guessing she took that badly."

"Don't get me wrong; Barb is a great person," Harvey says. "I just don't think she's really meant to be a cop's wife. Especially not the kind of cop Jim is."

Britta presses close to him. "That's a shame."

"Mhm. And Jim's a little too eager to spend nights at the station."

"Well, I guess all we can do is be supportive," Britta says after a moment. "You never know what the future will bring."

Harvey pats her stomach. "Maybe not the distant future, but I've got a clue about the next few months."

Britta turns in his arms and looks up at him. "You have a clue what we're in for? Because if you do, please tell me. I've never babied."

" _A_ clue," Harvey stresses. "Only one. And it's pretty much 'baby incoming,' so I don't actually think it's helpful." He pauses. "We're signed up for those classes, right?"

"Absolutely." Britta makes a mental note to check with Ethel on when they actually start.

"Good," Harvey says. "Baby 101. Hopefully we'll learn something."

"It's possible," Britta says, stepping out of his arms and taking his hand. She heads back into the house, and Harvey follows after her. "We're pretty smart, you and me. Between the two of us, I think we can pick enough up to make it work."

-0-

February comes to a close all too soon. When they talked, Babs had estimated that setting up her new identity would take three months. Britta's not sure she'll be able to get all the necessary work done in that time, but she's willing to help Babs out with whatever she might need. Most of that turns out to be hardware, software, and secure, off-the-grid real estate.

It turns out to be easier than Britta thought it might be to acquire the last; Babs is looking for a place to live now that she and Helena have split, so Britta works with her to find a good location and purchases the old clock tower that they settle on. Babs is going to use the money she'd set aside for room and board to pay rent, and as far as anyone else knows, it'll just be where she lives. The building's old enough that it's never been connected to the city's power grid; when it was in use, it'd been lit by oil lamps and the great clock's mechanisms predate electric motors. It'll take some renovation to get it into working shape, but she's got some people that she can ask to help out with that. Furnishing the place will be a bit trickier, since the kind of computing power that Babs is looking for is cutting-edge and therefore easily traceable, but Britta's confident that she can manage. As long as the manufacturing is spread around different companies, and the funds come from different accounts, it'll be difficult to tie it all back together. Hey, she listens to Lucius _sometimes_.

She's just finished talking to a contractor about windows when Dick and Rowan pop into her office. They look like they're trying to look innocent, which puts her on guard. "What did you break?"

"Nothing!" they swear in unison. Britta narrows her eyes.

"Really," Rowan says. "Nothing's broken. We just had a question."

"Are you getting us a car?" Dick blurts out.

Britta blinks. "A what?"

"A car," Rowan says. "For our birthday."

Well there goes the surprise. But then, that's what she gets for raising a pair of detectives. There's no reason to make it easy on them, though. She raises an eyebrow. "And why do you ask that? You're turning sixteen, not seventeen. It would be more logical to get you a car next year."

Dick's face falls.

On the other hand, Rowan's narrows his eyes. "You're bluffing."

Britta narrows her eyes right back. "Am I?"

"If you hadn't, you would have just said no," he points out. "You wouldn't rationalize it away, not until we’d started complaining."

"Buying the car doesn't mean I'll let you drive it," Britta points out. "What's your offer?"

Rowan frowns, but Dick pipes up. "No way. You wouldn't buy it just to have it sit around for a year. You can't have a car and not insure it; that's against the law. And you wouldn't buy a car unless _someone_ was going to drive it, because letting it sit isn't good for it. Also, you wouldn't let anyone else drive our car." He grins triumphantly. "So what kind is it? Can we see it? Where'd you even put it? We looked in the garage."

"Somewhere you'll never find it unless I want you to."

Rowan's eyes light up. "The Cave!"

"Right," Britta snorts. "Because I'd put it somewhere the two of you frequently visit to hide it from you."

"No-one looks closely at what they see every day. They've seen it a thousand times, so their eyes just skate over it," Dick replies.

"Oh, so you do listen sometimes?" Britta grins, and leans back in her chair. The dealer hasn't delivered their car yet, and won't until the day of their birthday. "Go ahead, look around in the Cave. Don't fall in any pits; I can't haul you out for another month and a half, so I'll just have to have Jason throw food down to you."

Dick gives her his very best attempt at a heart-melting pout. "I'm very disappointed in you."

"Says the kid trying to get me to tell him what his birthday present is two weeks ahead of time," Britta replies, raising an eyebrow.

Rowan slings an arm around Dick. "Come on, cheer up."

"Have you figured out what you want to do for your birthday yet?" Britta asks, trying to change the subject a little. In the past, birthdays meant doing whatever the boys picked out. This year there are more considerations to take into account, namely their new brother, their new stepfather, and their pregnant mom. "I'm not exactly up to taking you guys to the theme park this year."

They do their communicating-through-intense-staring thing for a minute before Rowan turns to look at Britta. "We were thinking we could invite a few people over," he says hesitantly. "I mean, we've got the game room, right? So we could play Xbox and Jason can beat Roy at Wii Bowling, and you and Harvey can kick our asses at Trivial Pursuit."

Briita cocks her head. "We don't have a saltwater pool for Aqualad." She pauses, waits for Dick's lower lip to start trembling, and then adds, "yet."

Dick changes on a dime, and hits her full-beam with his sunshine smile. 

"I was thinking an all-Titans pool party somewhere private, and then the humanoid-passing members could come back here for your game night."

Both boys' eyes light up. "Awesome!" Dick crows, bumping his shoulder against Rowan's. "Oh man, it's gonna be great."

Britta laughs. "I'll even let you give Wally sugar if you promise he won't use his powers while he's here."

"We'll make sure," Rowan says. "Hey, can we invite Raven? She and Kory have gone clothes shopping a few times, so she's got jeans and shirts and stuff. She doesn't get out of the Tower much, though."

"You can invite anyone who can pass as human or non-meta." Britta raises and eyebrow and looks straight at Dick. "Even Donna."

Dick blushes and ducks his head, and Rowan elbows him in the ribs.

"Thanks," Dick mumbles.

They leave her office in a jumble of limbs, Rowan murmuring something inaudible in Dick's ear. Dick pumps his fist and crows, and Britta decides she's a lot better off not knowing.

She shakes her head and turns her attention to her computer. She's got some research to do on electricians for the Clock Tower, and after that, Harvey's picking her up for antenatal class. Tonight discusses first aid for infants, which promises to be horrifying. She's really hoping that the practice dummies aren't painted to look like actual kids. At least Harvey will be there with her. As long as they stick together, she's pretty sure they can handle anything that life throws at them.

-0-

The twins' birthday is fairly sedate. Britta is positive that it's mostly due to Dick not wanting to leave the car alone for more than ten minutes at a time, lest it drive off without him or something equally ridiculous. They take Jason up to the Tower the Saturday after their birthday, when Dick can finally pry himself away. Britta had let them choose whether or not Jason could tag along; at sixteen, the twins are the youngest of the Titans besides Gar Logan, and Britta knows that bringing younger siblings along doesn't exactly make you the cool kids in the group.

Dick frowns when Britta asks one last time if they're sure, and Rowan shakes his head. "We figured we'd bring him," Rowan says. "You know, first official outing as brothers without the parents along. And we want him to keep getting to know our friends."

Britta smiles. "Alfred's ready to drive you to the train station when you're ready. Have fun, be safe, and try not to blow anything up, okay?"

Rowan raises an eyebrow. "No promises."

Dick just nods and grabs Rowan's arm, pulling him out of Britta's office before they can get into a discussion about what, exactly, they're not allowed to blow up.

Jason sticks his head out the window of the car like a puppy, to wave goodbye to Britta and Harvey. They wave back, and when the car pulls out of the driveway, Harvey turns to her. "So, what exactly do we have to do to get ready for the invasion of the teenagers tonight?"

"There are going to be eight of them, between thirteen and nineteen." Harvey makes a face, and Britta can't really blame him. Even though she knows perfectly well that the Titans are all good kids, she's _seen_ the inside of Titans Tower. "We're going to need food. Lots and lots of food."

"Right," Harvey says. "And drinks. Soda? Iced tea? What do they even drink?"

"No soda," Britta says quickly. "I think Wally has ADHD."

"Iced tea," Harvey says, nodding. "And we hide the sugar packets." He pauses. "Anything else I should know?"

Hopefully not. Donna, Roy, and Joey can pass for ordinary kids without trouble, and hopefully the ADHD excuse will cover Wally's behavior. She trusts the boys' judgment on Raven, so barring some sort of major disaster, everything should be fine. Britta smiles. "Only that they're going to try to tempt you into playing Wii Golf with them, and you should absolutely not let them win."

"I solemnly swear to beat them at Wii Golf," Harvey says, holding up his right hand.

"Good," Britta says. "Wait, I thought of something. Their friend Joey… there was an accident when he was a kid. He can't talk, or make any kind of noise. He uses ASL."

Harvey nods, his eyes dark. "Got it."

"They all sign," Britta goes on. "The whole group of them. Joey can hear just fine, so don't worry about not being able to talk to him if you want. Someone will translate his replies to you. They're all pretty used to it."

Harvey drags her into a hug. She hugs him back as fiercely as she can with her huge stomach in the way.

"They really are great kids," he says. "Even if they won't be kids much longer."

"Yeah," Britta agrees. "They are." She lets herself linger in the hug for a moment more before letting go. "Now let's start teen-proofing the house."

"And you thought baby-proofing was going to be terrifying," Harvey mutters.

"We can use this as practice," Britta offers. "And hey, at least we don't have to worry about them sticking their fingers into sockets. Or sandwiches into the DVD player."

"Are you sure about that? I've heard some horror stories out of juvenile court."

Now it's Britta's turn to make a face. "I'm really hoping we won't have that problem, let's put it that way."

"Well, they're bringing some ladies," Harvey points out. "At that age, they probably won't want to do anything too nuts in front of someone they might want to impress. And am I right in thinking that one of them is the girlfriend Dick hasn't exactly told us about?"

Britta grins. "That's possible, but I'm not entirely sure." It doesn't pay to assume the Titans are like regular kids.

"We can only hope for the best, then," Harvey says. "So, what's first on the preparation list?"

"Just this once, they're all sleeping in the den."

"So we don't have to worry about guest rooms," Harvey says, nodding. "Should we bring a bunch of blankets and pillows down?"

Britta smiles sweetly at him. "I'll direct, you carry."

"Aye, aye," Harvey says, giving her a sloppy salute and a grin.

Harvey manages to get most of the bedding from various linen closets into the den before Alfred gets home, and from there, they spend the day running errands and helping him prepare the food. Alfred shoos them out of the kitchen before long, when Harvey distracts him so Britta can steal cheese slices.

Britta swipes another slice before she leaves, breaking it in half and giving one piece to Harvey. "We've got three hours before the kids get here. I vote we take a nap."

Harvey kisses her and murmurs, "Naps, huh? Is that what we're calling it these days?"

Britta wiggles her eyebrows. "It's a clever excuse we can give the kids so they don't make _that face_ in front of their friends. A birthday gift, if you will."

Harvey takes her by the hand and leads her upstairs. He's never been shy about putting in long hours, and his dedication to going down on her now that she's too big for a lot of other positions is commendable. It's definitely something that she's come to appreciate, anyway.

Britta gets comfy against the headboard with a pile of pillows at the small of her back. Harvey kisses her slowly, thoroughly, and runs his hands up her thighs. She closes her eyes and lets herself fall into it, feeling every motion he makes against her. It's not as easy to move now as it usually is, but that doesn't make it bad. Britta's spent over a decade fighting to prove her independence and her authority, both in the boardroom and on the streets. Lying back and letting him strip her, make her feel good, is a nice respite. It's great to be with someone she trusts, someone she knows puts her above everyone and everything else. It's nice to have that feeling about Harvey, too, which makes the sex even better.

Ever the gentleman, Harvey rolls out of their bed to get a warm washcloth after they finish, and helps Britta clean herself up before curling up next to her. "Now, you were saying something about a nap," he says, yawning against her shoulder.

She scrubs her hand through his messy hair, grinning. "Naps are awesome."

"Forget Wii Golf," he says sleepily. "This is where the real party's at."

"We're going to light it up," Britta agrees.

"I've got a better idea," Harvey says. "Lights down. Lights all the way off. Sleep."

Britta takes pity on him, kissing him and hitting the lights. She's grateful yet again that she'd had a remote switch installed years ago; it doesn't just make turning the lights out easier, it makes it possible at all. She sets an alarm for an hour before the party and closes her eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

When the alarm goes off, Harvey groans against the back of her neck.

"Come on, lazy bones. We still have work to do."

He grumbles, but he climbs out of bed and helps her to her feet. "Do we have a to-do list, or are we checking in with Alfred?"

"Alfred has his hands full with making cupcakes," Britta replies. "We're handling the decorating."

"Decorating," Harvey repeats. "What kind of decorating?"

"I'm thinking a princess theme would go down well."

Harvey snorts. "Pink and purple crepe paper with big plastic rhinestones?"

"I bought twenty plastic crowns." Britta smiles innocently. "I want to make it a super-sweet sixteen."

"That's not going to be enough crowns," Harvey says as they walk down the hall. "You know Dick is going to try to wear as many as he can possibly fit on his head."

"And his neck, and his wrists, and his ankles, I know. That's why I got the big plastic bangle bracelets too. Every color under the sun, and a few more they invented just to screw with artists."

"Sounds perfect," Harvey says, smiling. "Where'd you hide the loot?"

Britta leans close, conspiratorial. "In the bathroom, behind a bunch of tampons."

Harvey laughs. "That'll do it," he says. "Okay, let's princess this place up."

They grab the decorations and head for the den, stringing crepe paper and "It's your birthday!" signs on the walls and across the drapes. By the time they finish setting out the tub of plastic crowns, it looks like they're about to host a stereotypical party for a five-year-old girl. Britta grins. "They're going to love it."

"Yeah," Harvey says, grinning. "You're sure that none of their friends are going to find it weird, right? I mean, you said they're all jock-types, and, well, kids can be… weird about stuff like this."

As far as Harvey knows, Dick and Rowan are on their school's track and field team, and the Titans are kids from other schools that they've befriended at various meets. It's the best possible explanation that they could come up with, and as long as nobody challenges Kid Flash to a footrace, it should hold up.

"Bear in mind that one of the kids in that group is Roy Harper," Britta reminds him. "I'm halfway convinced that if anyone did have a problem with it, he'd toss them off a balcony."

Harvey's shoulders lose some of their tension. "He's a good kid."

"He's been through a lot, so he doesn't take any shit." Britta kisses him on the forehead, in the middle of his frown. "The others are good kids too," she promises. "Rowan and Dick wouldn't be friends with kids who'd seriously make fun of them, and there's no way they'd bring Jason along if they thought their friends would pick on him, either."

"You've met them before?"

"Yes, Dad," Britta teases gently.

He sighs. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

"A little bit. They're sixteen, and they'll be under our roof. If anyone gives them trouble Alfred'll box their ears." She takes his hand and squeezes it. She's had almost eight years to get used to the daily heartbreak of parenting; Harvey's only been at it for eighteen months. All things considered, he's doing pretty well.

He squeezes back. "I'll tone it down by the time they get here. Promise."

Harvey keeps his word, even managing a smile when Dick and Rowan tumble out of the car they arrived in. Joey waves at them from behind the wheel, eyes shining bright, and Britta's the one who has to take a breath, reminding herself not to embarrass the kids by crying. It's just, Deathstroke's son is parked in front of her house with a smile on his face, and she has no inclination to call for reinforcements. It's progress.

Dick's eyes light up when he sees the party decorations, and sure enough, he makes a beeline for the crown bucket. Then he kicks off his shoes and climbs up on the couch, while Roy and the girls are still climbing out of Donna’s car, and crows, "I'm the queen of the world!"

"I'm princess," Rowan says, draping himself across the rest of the couch. He's limited himself to one crown. "Second in line, naturally."

Dick nods in agreement. "You're the backup plan to my perfection."

Britta snorts and goes to the door, greeting their visitors as they finally enter the house. Most of the Titans were able to come; someday, she'll be able to invite the less-humanoid members of the team, but for now, having Joey, Roy, Donna, Raven, and Wally over is more than enough.

But then, speaking of Wally, Britta has to wonder where he and Jason are. Did they lose the coin toss and get stuck taking the train?

Roy snags Britta's elbow and leans in to whisper, "Don't kill me, but Wally's driving my bike."

She sighs. Jason's ridden on a motorcycle before; he's even learning how to drive a sized-down model, for when he's officially Robin. Harvey doesn't know that, though, and with the way he's been mother-henning today, it might not go over well. "At least tell me they're both wearing helmets," she mutters back.

Roy looks affronted. "Of course they are! I even let the kid borrow my jacket." 

"Then it's not me you have to worry about." Roy pales a little and glances at Harvey, and Britta pats him on the arm. "I'll break the news to him. Go grab some punch."

Roy tips her a salute. "Yes ma'am."

Harvey is smiling and shaking Joey's hand, apologising for not being able to sign. "I'll do my best," he promises.

Donna smiles as she touches Joey's elbow. "Don't worry, Mr. Dent," she promises. "Joey's good at getting himself heard."

"Good to know," Harvey says, still smiling as he turns to Britta. "So, the gang's almost all here, right?"

"Right." She takes his hand and draws him away from the group a little. "Except Wally, who's bringing Jason on Roy's bike."

Harvey tenses and his smile dims. "Bike?"

Britta nods. "Roy just told me. At least _someone_ had the brains to give us a heads-up."

"But not the brains to keep from putting a thirteen-year-old on a motorcycle?" Harvey snaps.

Britta sighs. In all likelihood it never occurred to any of them that an adult might have a problem with that, given their extra-curricular activities. It's a miracle Roy got to the Manor and immediately realized how it might look, to have the youngest member of the group conspicuously not there. She's not sure how to calm Harvey down, either, without giving something away. It's not like she can say she doesn't have an issue with it without explaining why, and she can't give a weak "I'm sure he's fine" if she doesn't have anything to back it up with.

"Mr. Dent?" Roy says smoothly, stepping up close. "Ollie and I keep the bike well maintained, and Wally's a good driver."

Harvey whirls around, and for a crazy moment, Britta's afraid he's going to actually take a swing at Roy. He takes a deep breath and visibly forces himself to relax before growling, "Jason is _thirteen_. He's got no business on one of those things."

Roy squares his shoulders. "I'm sorry we didn't call you first."

"You'd better pray that-" Harvey starts, but he's cut off by the sound of a motorcycle pulling up the driveway. He turns resolutely and heads for the door, throwing it open in time to catch a delighted Jason-hug.

"This is the greatest day of my life!" Jason yells.

Harvey grabs Jason by the shoulders and leans back to study him. Jason is wrapped in Roy's riding leathers, all right, and it's only now that she's staring at the sight that Britta compares Jason's size to Roy's. Jason is probably also wearing every spare sweatshirt that the Titans could find between his body and the jacket, and he's holding a bright red helmet in his hand.

"What?" Jason says, blinking up at him.

Harvey visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping. "You look like the Stay-puft marshmallow man."

Jason scowls a little. "They wouldn't let me ride with Wally unless I could find enough shirts to wear to make Roy's jacket fit."

"That's a tragedy," Harvey says, shaking his head.

"I flapped in the wind," Jason complains.

Britta bites her lip and tries to resist joining in the trolling, but she just can't. "I bet that slowed you down."

"No, it's just that Wally drives like a grandma," Jason says, glaring over his shoulder as Wally walks up to the house. "He didn't go over the speed limit even once, not even when we were all alone on the highway!"

Wally elbows Jason lightly as he enters. "Batman lives in Gotham, kiddo. I don't want to find out what kind of speeding tickets he gives."

"Well, see, that's where you're wrong," Harvey says lightly. "Batman doesn't have the authority to issue tickets. He'd pull you over and then call me, to see what I want to charge you with."

"Also, your new dad's a lawyer," Wally stage-whispers before straightening up and offering his hand. "Mr. Dent. I promise I drove safely."

Harvey shakes Wally's hand, and Britta isn't surprised to see Wally wince a little. "Come on in, grab a crown," Harvey says. "The positions of queen and princess have already been taken."

"Alright, pizza time!" Jason marches ahead confidently, and Wally trails after him, giving Harvey and Britta a wide berth.

Harvey sighs heavily, and Britta reaches out to grab his hand. "He's fine," Britta says. "And we'll talk to him later about calling us before he does stuff like that. Okay?"

"Okay." Harvey smiles tightly. "This is me not being ridiculous."

"And this is me saying we'll talk about it," Britta promises. "You're allowed to be concerned, Harvey. I've heard it's a good thing."

He opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say is cut off by raucous laughter from the den. Jason is kneeling by the couch that Dick and Rowan have commandeered, and Rowan is lowering a crown onto Jason's head with a serious look on his face. Dick, on the other hand, flings a crown Frisbee-style at Wally's head.

Wally catches it and puts it on immediately, and Britta feels Harvey relax a fraction more.

"Once more unto the breach," he mutters, as Rowan turns on the Wii.

"It won't be that bad," Britta says. "And if it is, hey, cupcakes."

"Cupcakes fix everything."

"Alfred's do," Britta says, nodding. "C'mon. Let's go play Wii Golf."

-0-

The sleepover goes soundly; by the time the Titans go home the next afternoon, nothing has been broken and everyone, Harvey included, is in a better mood. Jason has the wide-eyed look of all-night gaming; Dick and Rowan are decidedly _not_ wide awake. Still, it's deemed an overall success by everyone involved. Alfred even gets the boys to help him clean up, so it doesn't take long for the house to settle back to normal.

Britta's glad about that; she's less than a month from her due date, so things are getting a little crazy on the baby side of things. She and Harvey are attending their antenatal classes religiously, and Jason has tagged along to a couple of the more kid-friendly ones in the interests of being a good big brother. Harvey's also attending office hours religiously, trying to make sure every box is ticked in preparation for the Falcone trial. 

And Britta's counting down the days until she goes on maternity leave. She's only got a week more of going into the office before she officially gets to stay home and put her feet up, but that week is looking more and more like eternity as she faces it down. Sleeping through the night is a pipedream now. The baby kicks and squirms if she stays still too long. She's pretty sure he's as anxious to get out as she is for him to see the world, but she does her best to explain that he's still a little too small for that. He doesn't listen, opting instead to punch her bladder or use her stomach as a pillow. Overall, she's not actually surprised.

Her last week in the office is spent preparing Lucius and the board members she trusts as much as she can; it's going to be a rough couple of months while she's out, but she has faith in her team. She just hopes that Gregson and his pet weasels don't try to take advantage of her absence to stage a coup or something. As a last resort, she writes up a briefing for Bruce so he can act as her stand-in if need be. Hopefully it won't come to that - he's got enough going on right now, and the board doesn't exactly trust him either - but Britta didn't get to where she is by not making backup plans.

Alfred starts leaving her half-portions of whatever they had for dinner, neatly parceled out and labeled in the fridge. The baby's already so big that she can't eat much in one sitting, but she's hungry again in an hour, and she's not surprised in the least that Alfred's noticed. According to the classes and her doctor, it's completely normal, but Britta still finds it bizarre to go from hungry to full to hungry again so easily. It's a little like being a teenager again, which is mortifying.

The rest of the family gets more and more attentive as Britta's due date draws closer. It's not really surprising that Harvey and the kids do it, but Bruce and Selina drop in more and more as she gets ready to have the baby. They try to casually drop in to conversation the fact that they're talking about moving in together, maybe hoping she won't notice, but Britta's pregnant, not deaf.

They asked for donations to a kid's charity instead of presents, but some people decide they're above that, so Britta enlists Selina's help in writing and addressing thank-you cards as a cover for talking about her relationship with Bruce. Selina insists that moving in together was her idea, and that Bruce is being "a total gentleman about it, believe it or not."

"I guess there's a first time for everything," Britta says.

Selina sticks her tongue out. "Bruce and I have our moments, but I keep him in line."

Britta snorts. "If there are whips involved, I don't want to know."

"I'll never tell," Selina promises, batting her eyelashes.

Selina visits a few more times before Britta starts getting uncomfortably pregnant. Even the baby starts looking uncomfortable in scans, hands mashed up against his cheek. He stops moving around as much, too, which Britta is assured isn't a problem. "He's just getting too big for his room," the doctor explains.

"Maybe it's time he was evicted," Britta grumbles. Officially her due date is still two weeks away, but the doctor talked to her about delivering a little early once the baby started measuring upwards of nine pounds.

The doctor pats her knee. "If he doesn't decide to evacuate on his own in the next week, we'll figure out the best time to induce you."

Harvey squeezes her hand and wisely says nothing.

"He'd better come soon," Britta says with a sigh.

Famous last words. Within an hour she's gritting her teeth through vicious cramps, really hoping it's not Braxton Hicks. If this isn't the real thing, she's in for a world of hurt later. Harvey wants to take her right back to the doctor, but she convinces him to wait a few hours; if it's still going, they can call, but she doesn't want to alarm anyone if it's just her body playing tricks.

She manages to convince him that she's fine that night, but shortly after they wake up in the morning, her water breaks. By the time she's done cleaning up, Harvey has her bag packed and ready to go. She barely manages to convince him to eat breakfast before they leave. Harvey tells Alfred what's going on while she calls the doctor, and ten minutes after Harvey finishes shoving his breakfast into his mouth, they're on their way to the hospital.

The baby is stubborn; he holds off on making his appearance until almost seven that night. It makes Jason happy; he'd tried to get the day off of school to accompany them to the hospital, but Britta had put her foot down. She'd just as soon have had the baby while he was in school, but Jason is thrilled that he's in the building when his baby brother is born. He's practically bouncing on his toes when Harvey lets the boys into Britta's room.

"Hey, guys," Britta says tiredly. She can't help but smile, though, because she's holding her baby, and her boys are crowding around her for a look. "Want to meet your little brother?"

"Oh my god, he's _huge_ ," Dick blurts out. "I thought babies were supposed to be little."

Britta manages not to wince, but it's a near thing. "He's bigger than average," she says. "Ten pounds, twenty-two inches. He's healthy, though."

"Can I hold him?" Jason blurts.

"Sure." She waves Harvey over and he slides his hands under the baby carefully, grimacing in concentration as he lifts him out of her arms.

"Sit," Harvey directs, and Jason plops down into the chair beside Britta's bed. He makes a cradle out of his arms, and adjusts as soon as Harvey lays the baby in it.

"Hey, not so little guy," he says softly. "Nice to finally meet you."

The baby snuffles a little, but doesn't protest. In fact, as far as Britta can tell, he actually turns his face towards Jason. He squirms a little at Jason's voice, but he doesn't wake up.

"Does he have a name yet?" Rowan asks softly.

Harvey grins. "Not exactly. Although considering how much of a little devil he's been for the last little while..."

"I've been calling him Damian," Britta confesses.

"Damian," Dick echoes, face breaking into a grin. "Damian Dent-Wayne. That sounds pretty good."

Britta raises an eyebrow. "It sounds like a joke that got out of hand."

"Damian," Jason says thoughtfully, looking down at the baby. He's got the one-armed hold down pat, and he uses his free hand to move the blanket away from the baby's face. "He does kinda look like a Damian."

The baby screws his face up into a scowl. There's a scratch on his nose already; apparently he did it in utero.

Dick walks over and crouches down next to them. "Is that your name, kiddo?" he asks in a sugary-sweet voice that Britta hopes to god doesn't last. "Are you Damian?"

The baby flails wildly, smacking Dick in the cheek, and he lets out a pathetically squeaky cry. He's probably unimpressed at his brother for waking him up.

"He definitely looks like a Damian," Rowan says, laughing at Dick's indignant look.

"I can't believe you hit me!" Dick takes the baby's hand and shakes it a little. "Bad baby. No uppercuts until you know how to control them."

The baby blinks open his eyes and blows a spit bubble.

"Awww," Dick coos. Apparently all is forgiven.

Britta laughs. "There are more random bodily fluids to come. I'll sign you up for first shift, Dick."

“We all agreed we'd change diapers," Rowan says before Dick can even make a face. 

True to Rowan's word, though, Dick changes the first diaper. He complains the whole time about nasty black goo, but he gets the job done. He looks proud of himself when he hands the freshly-powdered baby to Rowan, though, so Britta resists the urge to comment.

Rowan holds the baby's gaze, staring at him seriously. "You'll do," he says eventually, leaning down to kiss the baby's forehead. "Damian."

"That's not his name," Britta protests.

Harvey wraps his arm around her shoulders. "That might be a losing argument."

Britta frowns, but Jason snickers. "You know what they say, Britta. Once you name them..."

"You have to keep them," Rowan finishes.

"Right," Dick says, nodding. "So when do we get to bring Britta and baby Damian home?"

"Tomorrow," Harvey says.

Rowan grins. "Excellent," he says. "Anything we should do at home? Any last-minute preparations that we can take care of?"

"Not that I can think of. Just give me my baby back," Britta replies.

Rowan pouts."If I have to," he says, leaning over so he can lay the baby back in her arms.

Alfred enters the room, and Britta can see the look in his eyes, even if she's sure nobody else in the room picks up on it. He's proud, and more emotional than she's seen him in years, even counting her wedding day. "Miss Britta, Master Harvey. Might I meet our new family member?"

Alfred's face crinkles into a smile as he lifts the baby from Britta's arms, and Britta has to grab a tissue from the bedstand so she can dab at her eyes.

"There now," Alfred says when the baby screws up his face and starts whining, "none of that, young master." He tucks him into the crook of his arm and runs his free hand over soft, dark hair.

They have a few more minutes of visiting time before the nurse knocks on the doorframe and gently reminds them that visiting hours are over. Alfred gives the baby to Harvey, who holds him a little awkwardly while the boys gather their jackets and say their goodbyes. It's not that Britta is happy to see them leave, but she's had a long day and she's exhausted. Harvey sits in the chair that Jason had just vacated, and she smiles at him sleepily as he stares at their son.

She can't hear what he says to him, but it doesn't matter. They have time, she thinks as she drifts off. All the time in the world to discover each other's secrets. She trusts Harvey implicitly with all four of her sons. Maybe it's time to start trusting him with the rest of the puzzle of her identity.

It's a decision she can make tomorrow, though. For now, she lets her eyes fall closed and falls asleep to the sound of Harvey murmuring to the baby.

-0-

Even if she'd had another six months of classes, nothing could have prepared Britta for the chaos that is bringing Damian home.

She'd been prepared for a fussy baby, or she'd thought she'd been prepared; as it turns out, Damian's the kind of baby who is very rarely truly happy, and when he is, it's not due to anything that they can specifically pinpoint. He gives new meaning to the word clingy, howling for her attention unless Harvey or Dick is holding him; apparently those two are the only acceptable mother-substitutes. Jason pouts about it enough that Britta's worried about frown lines, but when they do manage to get Damian to sleep, Jason claims him almost immediately, walking around doing a bounce-jiggle dance while singing under his breath. Eventually Damian reluctantly allows Jason to feed him, but only if Britta is next to them on the couch holding Damian's tiny hand. She gets brief naps that way, though, so it's not a total loss.

Harvey goes back to work, and the world doesn't end. The boys' spring break starts right after Harvey gets really involved in trial preparations, which helps; Dick and Jason take turns with the baby when Britta needs a nap, and she's walked in on Rowan reading fairy tales while Damian snores in his crib. Dick and Jason are deliriously happy with their baby cuddle time, but Rowan mostly only interacts with Damian when he's out cold. It's not a bad strategy, but it's also not the best spring break possible, so Britta offers to send Rowan to visit a friend for a few days so he can get away. She's not actually surprised when he asks to visit Roy. She teases him about at least trying not to come back covered in hickeys. He blushes but grins, so she figures they're good on that front. Once he's gone Dick mopes around the house a little, but that mostly consists of him putting Damian in a sling and walking him around the grounds. Britta's pretty sure he'll survive the separation.

Britta is equal parts excited about and dreading going back to work. She doesn't want to send Damian to daycare, but she doesn't want to leave Lucius to defend WE from the vultures on the board for too long, either. She's already back to doing some of the smaller stuff that she can handle from home. She's gotten into a rhythm of naps and feedings, diaper changes and feedings, naps and arbitrating baby-disputes between Dick and Jason, and more naps and feedings just for a change. The older Damian gets, the more he settles into life on the outside, and Britta manages to squeeze in some time on the treadmill, or reading financial reports and minutes from board meetings.

Harvey comes home tired but happy about it in a way that settles something in the back of Britta's mind. He's sure that the Holiday case will be a lock, and given the amount of evidence that Britta knows his office has and the amount of work Harvey and his team are putting into it, she's pretty sure, too. He doesn't hesitate to steal Damian back from whoever's absconded with him, and tell him stories full of legalese as he tucks him into his pajamas. At this age, they've been told, Damian understands the cadence but not the words. Harvey's clearly taken that to heart, although he still edits out graphic descriptions of evidence. Britta can't help smiling as she watches them together, scowly-faced son and workaholic father flailing their way through bedtime.

Spring break ends, much to the boys' disappointment, and when they start back to school, Britta finally gets uninterrupted alone time with Damian. He's figured out how to sleep on his own, thank god, so he's perfectly content to sit in his swing and punch at his mobile while Britta works in the mornings. They spend the afternoons together, and Britta snaps picture after picture of tummy time to text to Harvey. Damian happily bangs at the ground while Britta lays beside him, dangling brightly-colored toys near him so he'll reach for them. Attempting to break things seems to be his favorite hobby. Britta's not actually surprised, given the last trimester of her pregnancy. She's just grateful he doesn't have teeth yet; he's already vicious enough with his sharp fingernails, and random head butts when he gets tired of holding his head up. Kicking and punching are favored activities too. Britta has high hopes for his future as a crimefighter, but she's a little concerned about how Damian is going to be received at daycare.

She and Harvey have finally settled on a daycare to send him to, after endless discussions, security checks, and begging from Jason and Dick. They've both volunteered to babysit after school, for the few hours before Britta gets home. She's not sure if it's brotherly dedication or a ploy to put off doing their homework. It's probably a mix of the two, honestly, but that's fine; the socialization at daycare is important, but Britta has no issues at all about Damian bonding with his brothers, too. And anyway, she's immune to their puppy-dog eyes, so she'll have no qualms about stealing Damian back when she feels like it and sending them to their rooms.

The thing she's most unsure about, really, is when she's going to have time to work on getting back in shape. She's getting some of the baby weight off with the treadmill, but Britta knows that she'll have to tone a lot of muscle before she's street ready again. Harvey helps on that front sometimes, without exactly knowing it; he's gotten into the habit of taking Damian for a drive after dinner. It helps Damian wind down for bed, and it gives Harvey some time alone with the little guy. It's also at least an hour in the evenings that Britta can spend down in the Cave with the boys.

Jason's been training for just over a year now, and he's made amazing progress. He'll never have Dick and Rowan's lightness on his feet - even at thirteen, he doesn't have the build for it - but his stance is solid, his movements fluid enough for what he needs to achieve, and his muscle mass is coming along nicely compared to where he started. Honestly, he'll probably be ready to go out by the time Britta gets back on the street. She'll keep a close eye on him over the next few weeks to see if there's anything she can help him improve or anything dangerous she can correct, but she knows that he's near the point where only experience will make him better.

A guilty voice in the back of her head asks how Harvey would react if he found out she's planning to put Jason on the front lines. _When_ he finds out, because inevitably Jason will end up with a bruise they can't hide; that's the nature of the work. It's going to be ugly, for sure. Hopefully that day won't be for a while, though. 

Britta shakes her head and checks her watch. Huh; she's been down here with the boys for almost two hours, and Alfred still hasn't called down to let her know Harvey's approaching the front gate. It's not unheard of, but Britta sets an alarm for another half an hour; if she hasn't heard from Harvey by then, she'll give him a call. Sometimes he gets caught up in driving around, or sitting with Damian at the pier, or some other kind of Daddy-and-Damian activity. Ethel likes having them over to visit, at least for an hour or so. She never had kids, so that's about her limit of baby-time.

She's just setting her phone's alarm when a call comes through. It's Alfred, and Britta smiles as she answers it. Speak of the devil.

"We need to get to the hospital, ma'am," Alfred says sharply as soon as she picks up.

Britta feels all of the blood drain from her face, and she signals for the boys to stop what they're doing. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"All I know is that Master Harvey is on his way to Gotham General by ambulance. I shall have a car ready momentarily."

"Damian," Britta says shakily, already moving for the changing area. "Harvey's going to the hospital, and - where's Damian?" Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jason's knees give out at the word 'hospital'. Rowan catches him before he hits the floor.

"I assume he's with his father, but the police dispatcher didn't say," Alfred says carefully.

One of the worst things about being Batman, about knowing how the system works, is that Britta is sure that Damian isn't with Harvey in the ambulance. The dispatcher would have included that detail to keep the panicked mother and wife calmer, and the fact that the dispatcher didn't say anything… it's not a good sign.

"Okay, we'll be up in a couple of minutes." Britta hangs up and waves Rowan over. "I need you to track Harvey's car."

Rowan's face goes blank, and he heads over to the computer without question. He's terrifyingly good at shutting down, sometimes, but right now she needs it.

"Wait," Dick protests. "I thought you said-"

"Harvey's in an ambulance. Damian isn't."

Dick makes an awful, strangled sound that Britta can feel resonate in her chest. Jason reaches out and grabs Dick's hand, and Britta can tell from the changing room that they're holding each other as tightly as they can. She strips and changes quickly, heading back out just as Rowan lets out a stream of expletives.

"Change," she says to Dick and Jason, who nod and walk into the changing room. "Rowan, report."

"Gordon just issued an AMBER Alert."

"Jesus," Britta whispers, gripping the back of Rowan's chair for support. "I… okay. Change. Upstairs in three."

She's not sure how she gets upstairs herself, but Alfred meets her at the concealed entrance and wraps his arms around her, so she probably looks like death walking. Maybe that's why she feels numb.

"Let's get to the hospital," Alfred says when he draws back. "We'll figure out what to do from there."

"He's gone, Alfred. Someone took Damian."

Alfred nods; either he's heard the AMBER Alert, or he knows she can't handle an argument right now. "Commissioner Gordon is going to meet you at the hospital. We'd best get going."

She lets him steer her to the car and buckle her in. Her hands don't seem to be working right. The boys pile in next to her, and they're all silent for the long drive to the hospital. It's unnatural for them, and if Britta had the energy she'd be deeply concerned. As it is, she's doing everything in her power to not panic until she has all of the facts. She won't know anything more until they get to the hospital, and she's well aware that Alfred will break every speed limit between the Manor and the hospital.

A uniformed officer meets them at the front desk and leads Britta straight to Harvey's room before taking the boys to the cafeteria. He looks like he's asleep; there aren't any visible bruises or marks on him, and Britta files the fact away for later. She sits heavily in the chair beside the bed and takes Harvey's hand. There's light knock on the wall, next to the open door, and she looks up to see Jim Gordon.

"He was injected with a sedative at the scene," he says softly. "Whoever did this didn't want any interference, but they didn't hurt him either. Your son-"

"Was the target," Britta spits out.

"That's what it looks like at this point. We're doing everything we can to track him down."

She frowns. "I don't want platitudes, I want answers. What happened?"

"Ms. Wayne-"

"Stop. I'm pretty much a cop's wife, after everything Harvey's worked on this past year." Whatever he knows, she wants to hear it. Even if it ends up haunting her dreams.

Gordon sighs and pushes his glasses up. "We got a call from a Starbucks employee who said she'd seen a car sitting in the same spot in the parking lot for half an hour. One of the doors was open, but she couldn't see anyone inside." He looks at her, and she nods. "Your husband was passed out in the front seat, and the back door was… open. The car seat was missing."

"They..." Britta swallows hard. "They took the fucking car seat? How did they even have time to figure out how to strap it in?" She knows it's a bizarre thing to fixate on, but she can't help it. Better that than thinking about these strangers' hands on _her baby_.

Gordon winces. "The seat will keep Damian safe, which isn't always the case. It's a better sign than it sounds like it is, I promise."

"It's a sign that they want him alive," Britta says flatly, "but forgive me if I find that cold comfort. I haven't received any ransom demands yet."

"It's early," Gordon says. "It's entirely possible that they're still in transit. We're chasing every lead we've got, and I pulled in extra people to start looking for leads we don't already have."

"Thank you." Britta squeezes Harvey's hand and bites back any more bitter words. She knows Gordon went through this himself, with James; treating him like the enemy won't bring Damian back any faster.

"I know it's difficult," Gordon says after a moment, "but it could help the investigation a lot if you and Harvey could come up with any names for us to look into."

Britta wants to laugh until she cries, or scream until she throws up. Between herself and Harvey? Hell yeah, she can come up with a list of names, and that's not even counting if someone figured out she's Batman. "We'll get you a list," she manages. "I have to… he doesn't know yet, does he?"

Oh god, she has to tell him. She has to tell Bruce too, and fuck, she's supposed to start work next week but there's _no_ fucking way...

"I'll stay," Gordon says. "I need to interview him anyway."

Britta just nods and squeezes Harvey's hand again, and they settle in to wait.

-0-

The ransom demand never comes.

Harvey was furious when he woke up, and they'd had to call hospital security to stop him from destroying his room, but once Britta got him home he shut down. He barely speaks to any of them, barely eats, and spends most nights at the office. He's convinced that Falcone is behind the abduction, and that if he convicts Alberto he'll be able to bring enough pressure to bear on Carmine at sentencing that he'll let Damian go.

Britta isn't as convinced. It's not that she can't see it happening that way, but Falcone has wised up since he abducted Gordon's kid. She doubts that he'd go for the same gag twice, and not when it's so obvious, either.

Gordon, for his part, is putting in a lot of overtime. She knows how close to home this hits for him, and she's grateful for his efforts; she's just also hoping that she can convince him to take a look into Melissa Daniels. It makes a horrifying kind of sense in Britta's head: the revenge scheme to ruin a family because her own family had been shattered, with the bonus of getting to raise a kid that she won't have the opportunity to have with her husband. Melissa Daniels hasn't been seen in Gotham since that disastrous New Year's Eve party, but that doesn't mean much. With her family's money and connections she probably has real estate all over the country, and the means to conceal ownership.

Those are just the top two suspects, too. Britta has come up with a handful of people she's pissed off in the business world who might be out for blood, and Harvey and Ethel made a list of threat letters that could potentially be credible. Britta's just praying that it's not Batman-related, because if it is, the chances of getting her son back are… best left unconsidered.

She works day and night on finding Damian, but Harvey doesn't see it; all he sees is that she's taken extended leave from Wayne Enterprises, and is always tired on the rare occasions he makes it home from the DA's office. It makes their interactions even more difficult; he shouts about her not helping in the search, and all she can say in reply is that she's trying her hardest. He accuses her of giving up, of grieving for Damian like he's already dead, and she throws him out of the house so she won't throw him out of a window.

Selina and Bruce become her rock, which is a role reversal she doesn't have the spare energy to think about. Dinah and Roy promise to help with patrols once he's on summer break, and Britta has to hang up and go cry in the shower. If Damian's still missing when summer comes, she doesn't know what she'll do. It's all she can do to stop Rowan and Dick from spending every waking moment searching for Damian, and she knows that Jason wants to be out there just as badly.

She's due for a discussion with Rowan, actually; he's looking exhausted lately, and she thinks he may have decided to creatively interpret her order to keep Robin out from under the cops' feet in the search for Damian. If Rowan's joining the search off-the-books, under a new identity, then he's doing it without comm support from the Cave, and if something went wrong… She'd rather keep him close at this point, but she wants him safe even above that. And she doesn't want to let anything contaminate the case against Damian's kidnappers, once they find them. She made that mistake once before, when Johnny Viti abducted Jim Gordon's son on good old Uncle Carmine's orders, and look where it's gotten them. The conversation isn't going to be pretty, but it's better if it happens sooner rather than later.

She sends Jason on an errand with Alfred one day after school, and the twins follow her down to the Cave. Dick has his stubborn-face on already.

"Where are the suits?" she asks, folding her arms over her chest. It's better to just dive in; there's less room for denial that way.

"Hidden," Rowan says, narrowing his eyes. "So you can't take them and keep us in."

Or, well, there's always the chance that they won't even try to deny it. "What are your new names?" she asks. She can roll with the punches better than anyone.

Dick mutters something, but Rowan ignores him. "I'm going out as Flamebird. Dick's Nightwing."

Britta narrows her eyes. "Clark put you up to this."

"Told you," Dick says, glaring at Rowan before looking at Britta. "He didn't. He just… helped. When we asked."

"Helped you go behind my back." Britta shakes her head. For a man whose mother helped make his costume, Clark's suspiciously eager to 'help' her sons break off on their own.

"Helped when we told him why we wanted to do it," Rowan corrects. "The more people we have out there looking for Damian, the better our chances are of finding something. You said that we needed to keep Robin away from the investigation. We have."

Britta frowns. "You think being seen as a _pair_ of vigilantes will help? Two boys who look exactly alike, and have an interest in Damian's case? If your identities haven't been compromised already-"

"Give us some credit," Dick snaps. "We don't patrol together in those identities. Robin still goes out and does Robin things, and nobody knows if the new guy is called Nightwing or Flamebird or something else entirely."

"Who's running your comms? Babs?"

They're both stubbornly, loyally silent. 

Britta sighs. She's aware that her hands are pretty much tied here. She can tell them straight out to stop, but they'll resent her for it, and it wouldn't work anyway. Besides, they're right; the more people who are out there looking, the better. She can't begrudge them their new identities, either. Having three Robins at once would have made her life even more of a circus, and they're both growing out of the role.

"Okay," she says finally, defeated. "As long as you have someone watching your backs, that's all I can ask." It's as much as she ever gets when they're on a mission with the Titans, anyway; she'll just have to get used to the new status quo. "I just wish you'd trusted me."

"We didn't want to get benched before we could do anything," Rowan says.

Britta sighs. "It was never about you. When we find whoever did this, I _need_ the case to stick. If they end up on the street again... well, I don't know that I could trust myself."

"It'll stick," Rowan says firmly. "We know about evidence and process and everything. You made us memorize it all, remember? We wouldn't do anything to endanger it."

"You'd be surprised what can go wrong when things are this personal."

"We know," Dick says. "We know that, Britt, and we're careful. We don't want this guy to get away with anything."

"What if you found out right now where they were holding Damian?" she insists. "Could you take tipping off the police and waiting for them to move in?"

"We talked about that," Rowan says. "One of us would stay on site, make sure that nobody made a move and that Damian wasn't in immediate danger. The other one would go tip off the police. We'd wait."

"I'd go," Dick adds. "Because Rowan's better at holding himself back, and I swing faster."

Well. Apparently they're all grown up and they don't need her input anymore. "Sounds like a good plan," she says roughly. "Keep me in the loop." And with that Britta walks out of the Cave.

Dick calls after her but she keeps moving, taking the stairs two at a time. She's the parent and they're the kids; it's not their job to soothe her hurt feelings. It would be nice to be able to have a "look at our kids, growing up so fast" talk with Harvey, but that's not an option, so she heads for the pool. She punches in her security code to make sure she won't be disturbed, and gets changed quickly. Throwing herself a pity party won't help anyone, but maybe she can channel some of her energy towards getting back in shape so she can be useful for _something_.

She swims until the ache goes from emotional to physical, and then keeps going until she feels like she'll barely be able to drag herself from the water. Then she pushes through that until she's too tired to think about the baby she couldn't protect, and the sons who don't want her protection. All she's ever wanted to do is to prevent what happened to her from happening to other people, but if she can't even keep her own family safe, how's she supposed to protect anyone else? Everything is fucked up with Harvey, she hasn't been to WE since before Damian was born, and clearly she's a shitty mother if her own kids don't trust her.

Britta has no idea how long she's been in the water when she hears the doors click open. She looks up just in time to see Alfred walking away as Jason enters, holding a glass of water. She shakes her head, wondering why she thought it was a good idea to let Alfred have all of her overrides, and wipes her face.

Jason hands her the glass, and she gets the feeling he's examining her. She tries to smile, but he frowns even harder.

"How are you, Jason?" she asks, taking a sip of the water.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he sits down on the tile and starts untying his shoes. She watches, wondering what he's doing. Once he gets his shoes and socks off, he scoots to the edge of the pool. Before she can say anything, he pushes himself into the water, clothes and all, and wraps his arms around her waist.

"Tell me who's being a buttmunch and I'll beat 'em up."

Britta has to put the water down and close her eyes. "Thanks, Jay," she says, pulling him closer. "I needed that."

"I'm serious!" Jason lets her go and puts up his fists.

"So am I," she says, pushing his hair back out of his face. The early summer humidity is making it curl and poof adorably. "I was just thinking about some stuff. Don't worry about it."

Jason rolls his eyes. "When you say that, it usually means I worry _more_."

"You can't punch my problems this time, how's that?"

"I'm not so sure about that," Dick says from the doorway. "I'm sorry we didn't talk to you first."

Now it's Britta's turn to roll her eyes. "No, you're not."

"I am," he insists. "Well, I'm sorry we didn't even think about how you'd feel about it. We were just trying to help."

"You are helping. And I'm a grown-up; I can handle my own feelings."

Dick sighs. "Jay, some assistance?" he asks. Britta opens her mouth to ask what he means, but Jason wraps his arms around her again, and Dick runs across the pool room, diving into the deep end and surfacing next to her before joining in.

"Does nobody in this family believe in swimsuits?" Britta says shakily. "Alfred's going to skin both of you."

"He let me in," Jason points out. "And I'm pretty sure he'd never get too mad at hugs. Alfred likes it when we hug."

"Alfred likes it when you actually put your laundry in the hamper too," Britta points out, "but how often do you do that?"

"I'd really rather these particular clothes didn't go in the hamper, just this once," Alfred says dryly from the entrance. They all turn, watching as he puts a stack of towels down near the ladder. "Master Rowan's just gotten off the phone with Master Harvey. I believe he's on his way home for a meal with the family, so you might want to take the opportunity to dry off."

"Why exactly are you all conspiring against me?" Britta grumbles, but she can't help smiling a little.

"She figured it out," Dick mock-whispers to Jason. "The happiness conspiracy is up."

Britta dunks him and wades for the edge. She climbs out and wraps one of the towels around herself, squeezing the water out of her hair.

"Come on," she calls over her shoulder. "Let's get beautiful."

-0-

Harvey is home by the time Britta and the boys make it to the dining room. He looks exhausted, but at the same time, he's more present than he's been since Damian disappeared. That's not saying much, but she'll take what she can get. The boys are on their best behavior, which makes things a little awkward and strained, but the whole family manages to get through the meal without any arguments. It's a minor miracle.

When Alfred clears the plates away and the boys ask to be excused, Harvey sighs and looks at Britta. "Can we… talk?"

"Of course." Britta makes herself smile slightly, and she leads him to the den.

He drops to the sofa beside her and sighs. "So, I owe you an apology. Maybe more than one."

"Same here, but you can go first."

That makes him grin slightly. "I'm sorry for accusing you of giving up. I know you haven't, and I have no business dictating how you deal with things." He pauses for a moment. "And I'm sorry for… abandoning you, more or less. You needed me, and to be frank, I needed you. I buried myself in work instead of dealing."

"He's our son," Britta chokes out. "I can't ever give up on him, and I know you won't, either. But I shouldn't have pushed you away."

"I didn't make it easy for you to do anything else."

Britta exhales shakily. "You had to make assumptions because I wouldn't talk to you. I... I'm still not used to having someone else to lean on. I've spent almost half my life being the one other people turn to, since my parents died, and I don't handle needing people very well."

"I'm not used to it either," Harvey says quietly. "Star DA, remember? It's my job to be the one with all the answers. When I can't figure something out… it tears me in half. I can't handle it."

"Is it okay with you if we start over?" Britta asks, taking his hand. "Because I _need_ to fix this, I need to get Damian back, and I don't think I can do it without you."

"You don't have to do the work yourself, and I'm sorry I made it seem like you did," he says. "I'm here. And I'm going to be here, too. I… I think, after the Falcone trial, I'm going to take some time off."

Britta's eyes well up with tears, and she blinks them back hard. "That sounds great."

"I want to be here for my family," he says, squeezing her hand. "For you, and for the boys. We can work together to find Damian."

"I've taken extended leave from Wayne Enterprises," Britta tells him. "Bruce is going to work there over the summer as an intern, to keep an eye on things."

"We'll have Damian back by then," Harvey promises.

"And I won't want to let him out of my sight."

Harvey sighs. "Agreed. I'll have to start doing some more heavy campaign stuff by that point, but I'm going to do as much of it as I can from here."

Britta grimaces. With everything else going on, she'd managed to completely forget that Harvey's up for re-election in November. "How are things going with Ethel?"

Harvey shrugs. "As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. Actually, she had some ideas about how to publicize our case."

"Oh?" Britta's more than a little wary; nobody wants this to turn out like the Lindbergh baby.

"She suggested... well, we'd talk to Jim Gordon first, of course, but she thinks we should involve the FBI."

"The FBI," Britta says. "They usually don't get involved unless the kid gets taken across state lines."

"They don't have jurisdiction for direct involvement unless that's the case," Harvey specifies, "but they have a lot of other resources we could tap into."

"What kinds of resources?"

Harvey launches into an explanation, becoming more animated than she's seen him in weeks as he details the intricacies of state vs federal LEOs - their skills, limitations, funding structures... the whole bit. It reminds her of the first time she met him as Batman, when he promised to teach her how to build an airtight legal case against all the scumbags she brings down.

"Okay," she says when he pauses for breath. "Let's do it."

"We have to talk to Gordon," he repeats. "But yeah, I think we should. There's no way it can hurt."

Britta drops her head on his shoulder, and sighs with relief when he wraps his arm around her. They're in this together, just like they said in their vows months ago.

"I'm not giving up on him, Harvey," she says again, softly. "I'm never giving up. I don't think I could."

He holds her tight, kisses the top of her head, and says, "We're not giving up."

They sit quietly for a while, curling into each other on the sofa. Britta does her best not to cry, and she's pretty sure Harvey's doing the same.

When they get up they're both moving slow, their limbs tired and stiff. Harvey's arm rests heavy on her shoulders as they climb the stairs to bed. They're going up together, though, and that's another first: spending the night with each other for the first time since everything happened. It feels like a fresh start.

"Shower before bed?" Britta asks as they get to their room. "I don't know about you, but if I don't loosen up a little before we lay down, I'm going to be stiff as a board in the morning."

"Sounds good to me." Harvey loosens his tie and shrugs off his jacket, laying it down on the bed.

Britta strips out of her clothes and heads for the bathroom. She turns the water on to start warming it up and smiles when Harvey's arms slip around her waist. It's normal. It's good. She's missed this, missed him. She twists in his arms so she can see his face, and incidentally so his hands can't rest on her stomach. That's one reminder they don't need.

"Hey," she murmurs.

"Hey yourself," he replies. "Is it warm yet?"

"Mmm, getting there." She presses her lips to his and waits, holding her breath.

It doesn't take him long to get with the program. He kisses her back, sliding his hands to cup her hips. They're out of practice, slightly awkward with each other, but it still feels good. Britta gasps in relief that at least they still have this.

She backs up the few steps to the door of the shower stall, leaning against it so she can concentrate on Harvey. They kiss and kiss, with no real intent behind it except being close to each other.

The only indication Britta has of how long they stand there is the amount of fog on the mirror when they pull apart. Harvey notices her looking and grins, leaning over to draw a heart in the moisture with his finger.

She snorts. "Sap."

"Guilty as charged," Harvey murmurs, leaning down to nip at her neck.

"Let's get in before the hot water goes cold again," Britta says.

Harvey laughs against her neck and she shivers. "Then we'd have the twins whining at the bathroom door."

He lets go of her long enough for her to step into the shower and get a good footing, and then he's beside her. He rests his forehead on her shoulder, letting the water beat down on his head, and Britta can't help ruffling his hair. His puts his arms around her, and she drapes her arms over his shoulders. It's a little awkward, but right now, there are few things in the world Britta wants more than this. Very few. Maybe only one.

"We should call Gordon first thing in the morning," Britta says, reaching out for the shampoo. She can just reach the pump, so she squirts a little bit into her hand and starts rubbing it into Harvey's hair.

Harvey hums, and she's not sure if he's agreeing with her or enjoying the pampering.

"I mean it," she insists, tugging on his hair a little. "The sooner he calls the FBI, the better our chances are."

"Then let's drop by and make the case in person," Harvey says. "It's hard to say no to a teary-eyed mother."

"I've cried on him already," Britta says. "Not that I'm arguing against showing up, but I think he knows exactly what we're thinking on this one."

Harvey shrugs. "Bullock's the one who needs convincing, I think. And the only time I've seen him run is when he's getting away from human emotion."

"I'll emote all over him," Britta promises. "He won't know what to do with all the lady feelings I'll have near him."

"You laugh, but it's true," Harvey says dryly.

Now that she thinks about it, Britta wonders if that's why Bullock and Montoya tolerate each other pretty well; they both seem to be allergic to sentiment.

"Should I bring a handkerchief to wring?" she asks, tilting his head back to rinse the suds out.

Harvey snorts. "Only if you want Sarah Essen to laugh in your face."

"No handkerchief, then," Britta says. She likes Essen; she's a good cop with great instincts. "Close your eyes." He does, and she stops shielding his face, letting the spray wash away the last of the suds.

When he's clean, she pecks the tip of his nose and then takes her turn washing her hair. It doesn't take long to finish the shower after that, and when they climb out, Britta's feeling a lot better about everything.

Harvey keeps his hands to himself as they get dressed for bed, and she catches his gaze straying to where Damian's crib used to be. Where it will be again, once he's home safe. Arguments to the contrary be damned, once she has him back Britta will be all for co-sleeping.

"It's in the nursery," she says after a moment. "Alfred's keeping it clean, but I couldn't…" She drops her gaze to the bed. "I kept stubbing my toe on it, and worrying that I'd woken him up."

"We'll bring it back in when we get him home," Harvey promises. "Soon."

They climb into bed, and Harvey curls up around her like he's afraid she'll disappear if he doesn't hold on tight. Britta can't really blame him, and she grips his shirt as she drifts off to sleep.

-0-

May turns into June with no sign of Damian. Harvey gets involved in the last stages of preparation for Alberto Falcone's trial, and Britta devotes her time to getting back into shape for the Bat suit. The boys finish up the school year; Jason throws himself into training, and Dick approaches her about taking Rowan to Star City for the summer.

"Roy's leaving for boot camp at the end of the summer," Dick says, "but don't tell Ollie."

Britta freezes. "What? He joined up?"

"Yeah. He, uh... with his history, getting into college didn't really happen."

"Right." Damn Ollie twice for getting that put on Roy's record. Britta would love to have words with him, but she doesn't have the energy or the right, not really.

"He hasn't told Ollie, though," Dick says, looking away. "He thinks Ollie would talk him out of it, or do something to screw it up for him. We're keeping our mouths shut, but I think it'd be good for him and Rowan if they got to spend time together beforehand."

Britta sighs. Dick has a point; of all the boys, Rowan's been taking their failure to find Damian the hardest. She's not sure how many hours he's sleeping, but she does know he sneaks out of the house. "I'll get plane tickets," she says. "Pack for the both of you. I doubt he'll take a break long enough to do it for himself if he knows he's going to be out of town for a while."

Dick steps up to her, and hugs her tight. "It doesn't mean we're giving up."

She hugs him back. "I'd never think that. You're allowed to take breaks, Dick. It's healthy." She doesn't add that it'll allow them to look at the case with fresh eyes. The twins don't need any more pressure than what they already have. Britta pats him on the back and lets go.

"We'll be back after Roy leaves," Dick promises, heading for the stairs. "Two months, tops."

"I guess it's cheaper than sending you to Paris," Britta tries to joke, but her tone falls flat.

Dick pauses at the foot of the staircase. "We'll come back if you need us. Just call."

"Have a good time with Roy," she says, doing her best to smile. Dick studies her face, but nods after a moment and heads upstairs.

Britta checks her phone to see how long she has before Harvey's due back for dinner, and then heads down to the Cave to re-shuffle patrol schedules. She's still not fit for the street, she doesn't want Jason going out without her, and things are still strained between Babs and Helena. It's going to be tight with Dick and Rowan away. Calico's always happy to help; maybe it's time to trust her with a little more responsibility. It's worth thinking about, at least. Selina will be happy to lend a hand, too. So as long as Britta steps up her game and gets back into the field ASAP, it shouldn't be that big of a stretch.

The next few days consist of a lot of training. Alfred takes Dick and Rowan to the airport, and then it's just Britta and Jason, who seems thrilled to be able to ask Britta anything he wants without his older brothers butting in. He's her shadow whenever she goes to the police station, too, eyes wide and taking in everything as she asks for updates. Playing the part of desperate, helpless parent eats away at her, especially because the longer all this goes on the more it starts to feel real. Even with all her skills and resources, Britta can't make Damian appear out of thin air.

Jason seems to pick up on how she's feeling, at least to some extent. He asks her about things that are pertinent without being outright painful, and gets her to teach him tricks and throws that he'll be able to use. She's grateful, because it's both useful and cathartic.

And it's interesting to get first-hand experience of Jason's fighting style. He never stops moving, never stops trying to twist out of her holds or break her concentration. She can see some of the moves that Rowan and Dick must have taught him, but there's a lot of Jason's natural style in the way he moves. It'll serve him well on the streets. Come to think about it, that's more than likely where he learned how to fight larger opponents in the first place. On the streets, on his own, surviving any way he could. The fact that he's choosing that fight now, as Robin, makes her feel like she's going to burst with pride for a moment, especially when her momentary distraction leads to Jason landing a hit on her biceps. He whoops and dances back, grinning. "I got you!"

Britta smiles. "Yes you did. You saw an opening and you didn't hesitate to take it. That's good; it's one of the hardest things to teach." And then she darts forward and sweeps his feet out from under him.

"No fair," he complains, still smiling. "You're a lot faster than I am."

"I'm slow compared to how I used to be." He sticks his tongue out at her, and she grins. "You're not bad, Jason, but you've got a lot to practice."

"Well, c'mon," he says, climbing back to his feet and slipping into a ready stance. "Let's practice."

It's easy to let her life narrow down to just a few points: dinners with Harvey, training with Jason, and days filled with going over reports from the previous night's patrols, desperately looking for patterns or clues. Anything, really. Britta talks to the twins when they remember to call, and Rowan eventually starts sounding less like a robot and more like a regular human. Even though there's no news on Damian, it still feels like they're catching a little bit of a break. The kids are doing better, and Harvey's confident that he'll win the trial against Alberto Falcone. After that, they won't stop until Damian is home safe and sound.

Harvey comes home one night actually grinning, and she knows before he says it that Alberto failed to get another continuance. All too soon the bastard will finally go on trial. He takes her and Jason out for ice cream after dinner. "I don't want to celebrate too early, but I think we've got this one," he says, reaching out to steal a bite of Britta's butter pecan. "In a few weeks, it'll be over and I'll be home. We can focus on family stuff."

Jason mutters something Britta doesn't catch and jams a spoonful of chocolate chip in his mouth.

Harvey frowns. "What was that?"

"I said, for how long?" Jason stabs at his ice cream like it's personally offended him. "It's June, and you have elections in, like, November, right? So how long before you take off again?"

Harvey shoots her a look, but Britta's got nothing on this one. Harvey sighs and sticks his spoon in his cup, setting it on the table. "Jason, I'm still going to be around. The election's gonna be a lot of work, but after it's over, things'll go back to normal."

"No they _won't_ ," Jason snaps. Before they can react, he shoves up out of his seat and takes off.

Britta goes after him, leaving Harvey to take care of the check.

He's leaning against the car, arms folded over his chest and a murderous look on his face. Britta leans next to him and waits until she can feel his temper simmer down a little. "So," she starts. "What's on your mind?"

Jason scuffs his sneaker against the sidewalk. "Nothing's going back to normal. Roy's leaving, and Dick 'n Rowan are going to college the year after, and Damian-" He chokes off, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt. "It was supposed to be me and him," Jason continues in a wobbly voice. "I was supposed to take care of him, and show him how to be cool even with those two doofuses as older brothers."

"You will," Britta says fiercely, throwing her arm around Jason's shoulders and pulling him against her side. "We're going to get him back, Jay. We won't stop until he's home with us, and then you can show him whatever you want."

Jason wraps his arms around her waist and holds on tight. "Sometimes people don't come back."

Britta closes her eyes and thinks about Willis Todd, murdered in prison, and Catherine Todd, chasing her pain away until the cure killed her. "I know, baby. But we'll get him back."

"Even if we do, it's not gonna be normal," Jason points out. 

"I'm sorry," Harvey says, stepping up behind him. "It was the wrong thing to say."

Jason just hugs Britta closer. "At least now you're saying _something_."

Harvey winces. Britta opens her mouth, but Harvey shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Jason. Running away like that… it was wrong of me, and I know that I hurt everyone. It won't happen again."

"It better not, you jerk," Jason says fiercely. "I was your best man, so it'd be my job to kick your ass."

"I’ll tell you what," Harvey says. "If I ever pull anything like that again, you and Selina track me down and yell until I see the error of my ways, okay?"

Jason lets go of Britta and holds out a hand. "Shake on it."

Harvey sticks his hand out and they shake. Britta has to hide a smile when she sees the corners of Harvey's mouth tighten as Jason's muscles tense. His grip strength is definitely getting better. It won't be long before she's confident he'll be able to hold onto a decel line.

"Okay, now we get mushy," Britta says after a minute. She slings one arm over Jason's shoulders and the other around Harvey's and pulls them into a group hug.

"Ew, Mom, not in front of Alfred," Jason protests.

"I could invite him to join us," Britta offers, grinning down at Jason's horrified face.

"You'd break his brain. You'd break his spirit. He's _British_."

Britta raises an eyebrow. "He knows what hugs are, Jason. He's even been known to give them out upon occasion."

"But you can't just offer him a _group hug_ ," Jason insists. "The Secret Service will know, and they'll arrest you.”

Harvey snorts. "You've been listening to Rowan too much," he says. "Don't let him fool you. Hugs aren't made out of evil, or whatever he's saying to avoid getting squished by Dick's octopus embraces."

Jason's eyes are bright, but Britta's pretty sure it's from trying not to laugh, now. "It's true! I heard Alfred tell Dick, once."

"Well, we can't argue with Alfred," Britta says, as seriously as she can manage. "He might withhold pancakes."

"Indeed," Alfred agrees, somehow managing to sneak up on them all even though they're standing next to the car.

"Don't worry, I defended your honor," Jason says in a stage-whisper.

"You have my eternal gratitude, Master Jason."

Jason smiles brilliantly up at him. "Thanks," he says, and then he darts in and throws his arms around Alfred's waist, squeezing quickly before throwing himself into the back of the car. Britta can hear his muffled laughter from inside, and it's all she can do to not crack up herself.

Harvey shakes his head but he plays along with the joke, sneaking a brief hug from Alfred before diving in behind Jason.

Britta looks after them, and when she turns back to Alfred it's clear that he's hiding a smile. "Well," he says, holding his arms open, "I suppose only a full set will do at this point."

"I promise I won't tell Dick you're secretly a marshmallow," Britta replies solemnly.

"That would be appreciated," Alfred says as he hugs her. "I'd never get anything done again."

When Britta gets into the car, she's not surprised to see that Jason's planted himself firmly in the middle. Harvey's hair is a little mussed, so she assumes Jason either climbed over him or wrestled him into place. Given the twin looks of innocence she gets when she raises an eyebrow, it's probably the latter. Leave it to Jason to decide that Harvey's due punishment is cockblocking.

"Are we behaving ourselves?" she asks as she settles in and buckles her seatbelt. 

"Of course," Jason says, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Everything is just peachy," Harvey adds, matching Jason's smile with one of his own.

Britta is not fooled at all, but if they're conspiring together again, it's a sign that things will be okay.

"If you say so," she says, making herself sound as suspicious as possible. Jason's expression doesn't crack, but Harvey has to hide a laugh with a cough.

"Are we ready, children?" Alfred says dryly.

"Yessir," Harvey says obediently.

Britta exchanges a glance with Jason, and they both crack up.

"Glad to hear it," Alfred replies when they manage to catch their breath, and sure enough, they all lose it this time. Britta can't stop laughing, even when her eyes start streaming, maybe because it's been too damn long. Jason collapses into her, laughing just as much, and she can see Harvey leaning against the car door, trying to calm himself down. She's not sure any of them know what's so funny anymore, but they keep setting each other off. Overall, Britta thinks as she wipes tears from her eyes, it's not a bad way to end the night.

Alfred starts the car, heading for home, and for the first time in a month Britta feels like maybe they can make it through this. Together.

-0-

"Everything ready for tomorrow?" Britta asks the night before the trial starts. Harvey has been frantically putting the last-minute details together for a week. He's been staring at the same open file on his desk for ten minutes now, though, so Britta's pretty sure he's done with prep and into worrying about it. Or possibly sleeping with his eyes open.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Harvey replies. "Although I still can't believe Alberto's representing himself. There has to be an angle to it, somewhere."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to take his father's money," Britta suggests. "I mean, he did get caught trying to kill the man. There's clearly no love lost there."

Harvey sighs. "Or they're laying ground for an insanity defense."

"Or that," Britta agrees. She's hoping it doesn't go that way, if only because it'll stress Harvey out more. She can't help but think that he's right about the whole thing being a setup for something more, though.

"He's facing life in prison for over a dozen counts of murder," Harvey says. "It wouldn't be difficult for people to believe he's crazy just for choosing to defend himself."

Britta sighs. "It doesn't seem like the best choice for him, no." She moves around his desk and lays her hands on his shoulders. "Whatever stunt he tries to pull, you can handle it."

"That should be my campaign slogan," he says, grinning halfheartedly up at her. "'Whatever crap they pull, I'll pull better crap.'"

Britta leans down and kisses him. "Oh Mr. Dent, you're so inspiring."

"It's how I get the conservative vote," he says solemnly. He tries to hold his facial expression, but he yawns after a few seconds.

"I'm sure the raccoon-eyed stare really draws them in too," Britta says dryly. "Might I suggest some sleep?"

"I suppose it won't hurt to try. Lead the way."

It doesn't take Harvey long at all to fall asleep once he's in bed. Britta stays up for a little longer, considering whether or not she should actually go to the courthouse with Harvey tomorrow. They've both got the feeling that something's up; if she's there, maybe she can figure out what it is before anything happens. She falls asleep making plans, and wakes up with a head full of contingencies.

"So," she says over breakfast. "I'm planning on sitting in the back of the courtroom to watch your opening speech. Any objections, Mr. Prosecutor?"

Jason perks up. "Can I come?"

"You have a tutoring session this afternoon," Britta says, raising an eyebrow. "Babs is coming over in a few hours, remember?"

"And I don't particularly want you to hear what I'm going to say," Harvey adds. "It's my job to emphasize the brutality of what Falcone did."

"I can handle it," Jason says sulkily. It's… probably the truth, Britta thinks with a pang. Between the cases he's studied as part of his Robin training and the life he'd had on the streets before he'd come to live with them, Harvey's words probably wouldn't shake Jason.

Harvey sighs. "That might be true, but it doesn't mean _I_ can. I need to focus on making things sound their worst, so the jury will be in the right frame of mind."

Jason's answering sigh is almost Dick-worthy in its quality of teen angst. "Next time?" he asks. "A different case, maybe, where things aren't so… what'd you say before? Brutal."

Harvey's eyes light up a little. "Tell you what, kiddo, next time I'm prosecuting someone for white-collar crime, you can sit right behind the prosecution table."

Jason smiles down at his cereal. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Britta smiles over Jason's head at Harvey, who's grinning right back at her as he spreads jam on his toast. "Anyway, I'd like to head to the courthouse with you."

"It's alright with me," Harvey replies, "so long as you know what you're in for. The judge is probably going to give a boring speech about procedure for at least half an hour."

"Sounds like a great time," Britta says, rolling her eyes. "But hey, I'm in. Years from now, I can say that I was there when you stole the show on opening day."

Jason wolfs down his breakfast and bounds out of the room with entirely too much energy. Britta has to wonder if he's still going to be this much of a morning person once he's going on patrols.

"Oh, to be young," Harvey mutters, apparently watching the same thing she is.

Britta shakes her head and offers him another cup of coffee.

"I'll take it to go," he says. "I need to run up and grab my suit jacket, and then I need to head downtown. I want to make sure everything's in place before we get rolling. Would you mind catching a ride down with Alfred when you're ready?"

"Not a problem," Britta assures him as they both get up from the table. Harvey kisses her before ducking upstairs. Britta heads to the kitchen to hunt down a travel mug; hopefully Alfred won't mind the brief interruption to his cookie frenzy. She snags the travel mug and pours Harvey's coffee without getting in Alfred's way, and then heads for the hallway just in time to tuck Harvey's cup in his hand as he hurries for the door. Britta snags his wrist and pulls him in for another quick kiss. "Good luck," she says.

"Hopefully I won't need it, but thank you." Harvey smiles tightly as he leaves, and Britta can feel the tension coming off him in waves. She just hopes they're both being paranoid, and that Alberto Falcone doesn't have anything more up his sleeves than ridiculously expensive silk.

Britta heads back up to the bedroom to shower and dress for court, and when she goes back down to the kitchen, Alfred nods at her.

"Ten more minutes, ma'am, and then we can leave for the courthouse."

"I'll finish the coffee," Britta says, getting a fresh cup out of the cabinet. "Unless Jason's beaten me to it."

Alfred smiles. "No, I limit the young master to two cups a day. He's hoarding today's allotment for his tutoring session."

"He'll want fresh by then," Britta decides, emptying the carafe into her mug.

"You're doing him a favor," Alfred agrees.

Britta smiles. "I'm magnanimous like that."

"No one could disagree," Alfred says seriously.

Britta finishes her coffee while Alfred takes the last tray of cookies out of the oven. She raises an eyebrow when he slides them onto a cooling tray and then locks it in the pantry; if Jason gets that hungry, no lock will stop him.

"I do what I can," Alfred sighs, noticing Britta's expression. "At least it will slow him down a bit."

Britta smiles. "And give him some practice at lock-picking. We can call it a training exercise."

"Training never ends," Alfred quotes, nodding. "Cookies as both exercise and reward. It does seem fitting."

"As long as he leaves a few for Babs, he won't get hurt," Britt jokes.

"I have to believe that he's learned that lesson," Alfred replies. "After the time with the butter biscuits…"

"He's lucky she only had a teaspoon in her hand."

"He is indeed," Alfred says. "If you're ready, ma'am, we should be on our way to the courthouse. It wouldn't do to get there late."

Britta rinses her coffee cup and leaves it in the sink. "Lead the way, Alfred."

Alfred doesn't say much on the drive into town. It's not unusual, but it does give Britta the time to think up even more scenarios that Alberto could be planning. Some of them are a lot more implausible than others, to be sure. His father probably isn't inclined to use brute force to break him out of police custody, for instance, given than Alberto tried to kill him. It's also really unlikely that he was able to hire some sort of hit man; nobody would want it to get back to Carmine that they'd worked for Alberto. Gordon will have security covered, anyway. There's no way anyone unauthorized will be able to get a weapon inside the courthouse.

There's a cough from the front of the car, and when Britta blinks and looks up, Alfred is smiling at her. "We're here, Miss Britta."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'm not sure when we'll be done, so I'll get a ride home with Harvey."

"Very well," Alfred replies. "I'll make sure that Master Jason does, in fact, share the cookies."

Britta's one of the last to be seated. The courtroom is packed with reporters, police, and family of the victims. Gordon nods to her from his position near the gate separating the court proceedings from the audience.

It's only a few minutes before everything begins. Harvey was right; the judge talks about procedure for longer than anyone really pays attention to, but then Harvey stands up and looks gravely at the jury. His speech is measured and precise, every word chosen for just the right effect. He'd worked on it for days, and the effort was well worth it: the jury is rapt. He lays out the facts of the case and weaves in Alberto's motive and plans. By the time he wraps up his opening remarks, the jury is already nodding along.

Once he's done, the judge calls for a break. Britta makes her way up to the divider to congratulate Harvey, but she can barely reach him through the crowd of reporters. They're all leaning in, trying to get a quote that they can all butcher into tomorrow's big headline, but Harvey just smiles and waves as he sits at his table, shuffling through his notes. Britta nods to him and makes her way back to her seat. They'll have time to talk tonight, when he's too buzzed on adrenaline from the trial to get to sleep.

After a few more minutes of reporters getting nowhere with Harvey, the judge calls for quiet. All eyes turn to Alberto Falcone. He's dressed strangely, in a coat that's slightly too big and pants that are slightly too long. It's a ploy, Britta guesses. He looks way more harmless that way.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says as he stands up. He opens his mouth again but coughs almost immediately. His hand slips inside his coat, and Britta watches as he pulls out a bottle of cough syrup. He steps forward as he unscrews the top, which is odd. Surely he'd want to take a dose and then carry on with his speech once his throat's clear.

"I present as evidence," he says, and then he tosses the contents of the bottle at Harvey, who starts screaming.

Britta doesn't even stop to think. She shoulders her way through the crowd and vaults over the divider. Behind her, guards are wrestling Alberto to the ground, but she only has eyes for Harvey. He's clutching his face with both hands, and she can see his fingers starting to swell, so she grabs a pitcher off the table and tips it over his head.

"Somebody get me some water!" she snaps.

His screams are awful, and they don't abate at all as she tries to get his hands away from his face. Someone kneels next to her with another pitcher of water, and she takes it and starts pouring again. "We've called for an ambulance," the person says. Britta catches a flash of police blue out of the corner of her eyes and nods briefly, focusing back on Harvey immediately. She manages to get his left hand free, and starts working loose his wedding band. If it's allowed to keep swelling with that pressure around it, he could lose the finger.

She has to force herself to breathe calmly when she looks at the part of his face that's now exposed. The skin is raw and patchy; it looks like whatever Alberto threw at him is still eating its way through his cheek.

The officer beside her retches, and she elbows him aside. "Keep bringing water - room temperature, not chilled. We don't want to send him into shock." Leslie and Alfred have trained her well; Britta's hands don't even twitch as she uses a section of Harvey's shirt to wipe some of the acid off his face. She has to swallow hard when it pulls at his skin, but Britta doesn't let herself stop. Harvey is breathing raggedly between screams, and every time she dabs at his face, the screaming gets worse. The skin around his eye is coming up in blisters, but she doesn't have time to worry about anything but rinse-repeat-rinse-repeat. She doesn't let herself cry, doesn't let her hands shake. Britta stays as steady as she can as she tries to administer first aid, but when she hears the paramedics shout as they enter the building, she can't help but feel relieved. They take Harvey's pulse and inject him with something that finally, blessedly, makes his screams subside into whimpers.

"Ms. Wayne," someone says, tugging at her elbow. Britta resists, but the person keeps pulling. "Ms. Wayne, you need to give them room to work, and we need to make sure none of that stuff got onto you."

Britta lets herself be tugged away, but when they try to look her over her stomach revolts. She doubles over and pukes on the floor, right between the feet of the paramedic in front of her. The paramedic doesn't even blink; she just takes Britta's elbow when she's done retching and walks her farther away from where the others are crowded around Harvey on the floor.

"I tried - oh god," Britta gasps out.

"You did really well," the paramedic says. Her voice is low and kind. "The police said that you helped clean him off. That's going to count for a lot, Ms. Wayne. You did a great job, but now I need you to let me give you a check-up, okay?"

Britta crouches down, sitting back on her heels, her hands loose in the paramedic's grip. The paramedic introduces herself as Jen, and she keeps talking to Britta as she does the examination. Jen tells Britta each thing she's about to do before she does it, and it takes Britta a few minutes to realize that Jen's talking her out of a panic attack.

"Don't - I'm fine. I just need to be with Harvey. Is he okay?"

"We're going to transport him to Gotham Mercy," Jen says. She surveys Britta. "I'd recommend against you driving at the moment, ma'am. Is there someone who can give you a lift to the hospital?"

"I'll make sure she gets there," someone says, and when Britta turns, she's almost overcome with relief to see Jim Gordon standing behind her.

"Jim." Britta drags him into a hug, desperate for something to hold onto in this mess. "I need to call the boys, I need Alfred, I have to talk to Bruce-"

"It's okay, Britta," he says, hugging her back. "You can call whoever you need to call. They're moving Harvey now, though, so we should get on the road if we want to meet them at the hospital."

She nods against his coat and lets him steer her out the back door of the courthouse, away from the cameras. She's got no doubt that she'll be the face of this all over the papers tomorrow, but Ethel will-

"Ethel," she chokes out. "We need to call Ethel."

"Alright," Jim says agreeably. "Do you have your cell?"

"Yeah," she says, fishing it out of her purse as Jim unlocks his police cruiser. "Yeah. I should… Who do I call first?"

"Whoever you think is the best person to break the news to the boys," Jim says softly. "It might be done already, but if you can avoid it, it's better they don't find out from the news."

"Alfred," Britta says, nodding and dialing as Jim shuts the door.

Alfred will know what to do. He always does.

-0-

Britta isn't sure of… well, a lot of things, at the moment. She knows that she called Alfred from Jim's car, managing to let him know what happened and make him promise to keep Jason at home. She remembers calling Bruce and breaking down a little, but she doesn't know how long it's been since she got to the hospital. She's been alternating between replaying what happened in her head, trying to figure out if there was something she could have done, and trying to figure out what Falcone's plan was. She can't think about what happens next. Not yet. There are too many unknown variables, too many ways things could get worse for Harvey; if she starts thinking about it, she'll never stop.

Jim has been in and out of the waiting room. Sometimes he talks to her; sometimes he's muttering into his phone. She knows that he has to be working on the case, but she can't put her finger on what the mystery could be. Everyone saw Alberto Falcone throw the acid into Harvey's face. It's not like he can plead not guilty.

She's not expecting Jim to hang up and throw his phone against the wall.

"Arkham. Goddamn _Arkham_ is too good for him."

Britta frowns. "Falcone? He's not… they just did a complete psych workup on him before the trial. He's not crazy."

"Apparently they've changed their minds. Or he's finally decided to cooperate with his father's lawyers."

"Great," Britta mutters. "Jim, how'd he get it in there?"

"On a twenty-four hour hold. They're calling it suicide watch, but we could've done that at the precinct. This is... they're playing an angle."

"No, I mean…" She shifts. "The bottle. Wasn't he frisked before he went into the courthouse?"

Jim sighs. "Of course. But someone must've slipped it to him this morning, after he got there."

"Well, who had access? Is someone talking to the guards?"

"We're doing everything we can, Britta. Right now you need to focus on your family."

Britta takes a deep breath "Jim, if I think any more about my family without getting details, I'm going to lose it. I need to be thinking about anything else, at least until I hear from a doctor about Harvey's condition."

Jim looks uncomfortable, but before he can reply there's a knock on the waiting room door. Ethel strides in as Britta turns to see who’s there, and she promptly folds Britta into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, honey," Ethel says.

"Oh, Ethel," Britta says, hugging back. "I just… thank you for coming. We haven't heard anything yet."

"I'll stay until we hear from a doctor," Ethel says firmly. "And if that doesn't happen in the next hour or so, well, we'll find our own answers."

She's steady as a rock, and Britta knows that if they need to kick down doors Ethel will be on the frontlines. There are reasons that Harvey chose her to be his campaign manager, and it's not because of her sweet demeanor.

Jim's cell rings, and he excuses himself to take the call just as a doctor comes in.

"Ms. Wayne?" he says, walking to Britta and holding out a hand. "I'm Dr. Kreuter. I've been working with the team to help your husband."

"Is he alive?" Britta blurts out before she can stop herself.

"He's alive," Dr. Kreuter says reassuringly. "In fact, he's stabilizing. We're going to keep visitors out for a day or two, just until he heals enough that infection isn't such a huge danger, but he's going to pull through."

Britta feels her legs go weak, so she locks her knees.

"That's good," Ethel says. "What exactly happened? What sort of recovery process are we facing?"

Britta listens as Ethel and the doctor talk, but she doesn't retain much of the information. Her mind keeps replaying the events in the courtroom again and again, overlaid with Dr. Kreuter's words. _He's going to pull through._ Right now it's all she cares about, and she can't help feeling a flood of relief that she'll have at least some good news to tell the boys when they get here.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Dr. Kreuter asks, shaking Britta out of her thoughts.

"Can we see him?" Britta asks. "I mean, I know we can't go in, but is there a window or something?"

"Of course. You won't be able to see much, between the dressings and the ventilator, but-"

"I don't care. I just need to see him."

Dr. Kreuter nods. "He's coming out of surgery now. Once he's through post-op and settled into his room, I'll make sure someone comes to get you. It'll be about an hour."

Ethel takes Britta's hand and squeezes. "We'll be here."

"Thank you," Britta adds as the doctor walks out.

"Well," Ethel says, squeezing Britta's hand one last time. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Britta frowns, thinking. "I… breakfast. We ate before Harvey left this morning."

"That was a while ago. How about I get you something from the cafeteria?"

"I'll go with you," Britta says. She doesn't really want to be alone with her thoughts right now.

"Sandwiches," Ethel says, walking towards the door and waiting there for Britta to get with it. "We'll get sandwiches and some coffee, and we can go over what we want to have in the press release if you're up for it."

Work. Hallelujah. Britta breathes a sigh of relief and links arms with Ethel.

Ethel is a rock in more ways than Britta knows how to count; she navigates them to the cafeteria, orders for herself and for Britta, and puts a hot cup of coffee in front of each of them before bringing up anything that's going to be tough to deal with. They make a list of people they categorically do not want to invite to the press conference, and a much smaller list of definite yeses. The press release is fairly simple and straightforward. They don't have a lot of details to give, so it pretty much says that Harvey is stable, and that the family is requesting privacy. The doctors aren't going to say anything until there's more to report, and Ethel is going to ask Gordon to make a similarly brief statement.

Britta's so focused on reading over the statement one last time that she doesn't even realize Ethel got up until she comes back with a plate of brownies. Ethel smiles as she pushes it towards Britta. "You finished your supper, so you can have dessert."

Britta raises an eyebrow. "Really?" she says dryly. "I'm not a kid anymore; I don't get excited over chocolate."

Ethel snorts. "Oh, so I was imagining the chocolate cake at your wedding?"

Britta's first impulse is to protest her innocence, and blame it on pregnancy cravings, but that leads her down a path she can't afford to think about right now. She forces a smile instead. "Well, I guess I could have one. You did already buy them, after all."

"They're not as good as Alfred's, I'm sure," Ethel replies, "but if we stuck to that standard your boys would never eat."

"They'd eat anything," Britta says, taking a brownie. "I'm convinced that Jason's not a growing boy, he's a growing vacuum cleaner."

Ethel keeps her talking for a while about Dick and Rowan's SAT procrastination, and Jason's ever-expanding library. Safe topics that don't make Britta want to claw her own face out of sheer frustration at her helplessness. It's not hard to see why she's in PR; Ethel is really, really good at working with people in high-stress situations, and by the time they finish their brownies and head back up to the waiting room, Britta feels calmer than she has all day. She's pretty sure she'll be able to see Harvey without breaking down, anyway.

They get back to the waiting room with at least fifteen minutes still on the clock before the doctor's due to come back. Sitting still is torture, but pacing will only get her blood pressure racing, so Britta settles for rummaging in her bag. She finds her notebook hiding at the bottom, crumpled by the weight of her wallet. It's half-filled with jagged sketches, careless lines she stabs into the paper when she's trying not to think. It's gotten a lot of use over the past couple of months, but there are still some blank pages towards the back. She opens it up and pulls out a pen, drawing aimlessly as she waits. She somehow manages to zone out for a while, only snapping to when someone new leans into the room and asks for "Mrs. Dent."

"Britta Wayne," she says, standing and holding her hand out to the nurse. "I'm Harvey's wife. How is he?"

The nurse winces a little, but he shakes her hand. "He's stable for now, ma'am. I can show you where he's being kept, but it's an isolation room, so you can't go in."

"We know that already," Ethel says snippily.

"Sorry," the nurse says. "It's just something I have to tell anyone we take in there. Sometimes people get excited and try to run in, so we have to do everything we can to keep our patients safe."

Ethel keeps frowning. "I had assumed there'd be security posted at the door, considering the circumstances."

The nurse blushes. "Yes ma'am. The commissioner left two officers. I, uh - sorry, I'm used to working in Metropolis."

Ethel snorts. "Explains a lot, then. Okay; show us the way."

The nurse glances sideways at Britta, waiting for her to nod before he leads them out of the waiting room and through a secure door. The Bat part of Britta's brain comes online enough to notice the security measures; the nurse has to swipe his card to get them through every set of doors, and the guards posted outside of Harvey's unit have to swipe theirs as well. It's pretty much the most secure the hospital can make him, and a tiny part of Britta relaxes at that.

"If you visit after hours a staff member can buzz you through," the nurse says, "but you'll have to show photo ID."

"I'd prefer it if everyone who came through here showed photo ID no matter what," Britta says. "Honestly, I'd rather have an approved list of visitors, so nobody can get in without authorization."

"You'd have to talk to security about that, ma'am," the nurse says, stopping at a window. He gestures inside. "Mr. Dent is in here. They're keeping him in a medically induced coma for now, so he won't respond, but you can see him."

The nurse is still talking, but Britta ignores him in favor of staring at the figure on the bed. It has to be Harvey; his name is on the door. There's no other way to tell it's him, though, because there are bandages covering his face and his left arm. He's so still she has to remind herself that the doctor said he's stable.

Ethel takes her hand and squeezes it firmly. "He's going to be fine, hon," she says. "Between you and me, he'll recover from this."

Britta forces herself to nod. At least he's not on a ventilator, so presumably he didn't swallow any of the acid. That's something.

"Britta," Ethel says, and Britta turns to look. "Maybe it's time to go home, huh? Spend some time with your boys." Britta opens her mouth to protest, but Ethel shakes her head. "I'll stay with him."

"Okay," Britta replies after a moment. She takes a deep breath and looks at Harvey for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Home."

The nurse escorts her back through the locked ward, chattering about nothing. He presses a brochure into her hands with the direct number for the nurse's desk. "Call us whenever you want an update," he says. "Night or day. Someone's always on call."

He swipes her through the last door with a nervous smile, and Britta distantly remembers that there's a ward in this hospital with her father's name on it. She hasn’t been there since the dedication, years and years ago, but she recalls seemingly endless twists and turns in the corridors. The hospital’s layout is much better now, though; she can let herself zone out and follow a red line back to the elevator and down to the main entrance.

"Britta," someone says as she walks into the lobby. Before she can turn to see who it is, she's swept into a hug. "I came straight here as soon as I heard."

"Bruce," Britta says, turning into the hug and clutching at her brother's shirt a little. "Thanks for coming." _Don't cry_ , she tells herself firmly. She doesn't want to ruin Bruce's suit.

"How's he doing?" Bruce asks a little hesitantly.

Britta sniffs, steeling herself. "Stable. Unconscious. They're keeping him in a medically-induced coma."

"Oh, B," Bruce sighs, hugging her tighter. "What do we do now?"

Britta just shakes her head. "There's nothing - I have to wait. I have to tell the boys."

"Let's go talk to them," Bruce says, finally releasing her. "Alfred's with Jason, right? And the twins are on vacation?"

Britta nods. "I'm pretty sure Alfred told them to head home."

"I doubt he'd have to," Bruce replies, walking for the exit. "They were probably packing their bags the second he called."

"Probably," Britta agrees, following him into the parking lot. She manages to keep it together until she's safely in the passenger's seat of Bruce's car, but as soon as she's buckled in, she has to close her eyes to fight back the tears. "Bruce."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she manages, her voice wobbly.

"Any time." He reaches out, squeezes her hand, and starts the car.

She looks back at the hospital as Bruce turns onto the highway. She frowns a little, trying to figure out where the ICU is from here, and then trying to figure out where he'll be moved once he's doing a little better. It hits her, then, how big all of this is; what it'll mean for the family, how it will affect the boys, the long road they've all got in front of them. She takes a deep breath and looks back at the road, willing herself to just keep it together for a little bit longer. Soon she'll be at home, and then she'll have her family all around her. It'll be better, she tells herself. It'll have to be.

-0-

Jason tries his hardest to put on a brave face when Britta sits down and tells him about Harvey's injury, but he's not fooling any of them. He curls up against her side and buries his face in her shirt, and Britta holds him tightly and tries not to cry with him.

Bruce just stands there with his hands in his pockets, the confidence he'd had with Britta at the hospital crumpling like old newspaper; he's never known how to handle sad kids, even when he was one. Britta shifts a little and pats the seat beside her, and Bruce sits. It's nice to have someone to lean into, even if she's still willing herself not to ruin his suit.

Alfred brings cookies and hot drinks through to the living room, and they all settle in to wait for the twins' plane to land. Britta makes a mental note to thank Ollie for offering up his private plane as soon as he heard; she can't imagine how awful a commercial flight would've been for Dick and Rowan today, running the gauntlet of paparazzi through a public airport. Besides Bruce, Ollie is the only other person she knows who understands what it's like to go through a private tragedy in the spotlight of the public eye, and she's glad the boys were with him.

Bruce finds the remote and turns on the television; she's pretty sure none of them actually pay attention to the cartoons he finally settles on, but it's good to have some sort of background noise. At the very least it keeps her mind from straying back too much to the night she got the call about her parents, and showed up to the hospital to find Bruce essentially catatonic. She's pretty sure he's deliberately not thinking about it, too; he keeps glancing over at her and Jason as if reminding himself that they're okay, and after a few minutes he throws his arm over her shoulder in an awkward side-hug.

It helps that Jason keeps fidgeting against her other side. Since his last growth spurt he's become all knees and elbows, and it's so viscerally different from holding Bruce at the hospital that it keeps Britta from getting confused. Her thirteen year old son is nothing like Bruce was at nine, mercy of mercies.

They all just sit together for a while. Jason shifts to get more comfortable, and Bruce makes a few aborted attempts to pull his arm back before Britta throws her arm over his shoulders. The hug gets a little more awkward, yeah, but Bruce relaxes, which makes it easier for Britta to relax. She closes her eyes and lets her mind drift, her thoughts and fears washing over her in a stream she doesn't even try to grasp.

She doesn't really notice much of what's going on around her until she hears Alfred clear his throat. "I'm off to collect the boys from the airport. I should be back within two hours, and I will keep both my cell phone and my panic button in reach at all times."

Britta struggles upright from where she's slumped a little against Bruce. "I should go with you."

Jason's hand tightens in her shirt. "We all should, maybe."

"Jay," Britta says softly, but she doesn't have time to say anything else before they all hear the front door swing open. Britta struggles with feeling proud and feeling annoyed, because she and Jason both move to put Bruce behind themselves and end up running into each other. Something to work on before Jason's field-ready, that's for sure.

"Aloha," Dick calls from the front hall.

"Dick?" Jason calls back, somehow untangling himself from Britta and running for the entryway. "Rowan? How'd you guys - oh. Uh. Hi?"

Britta's a few steps behind him, so she takes a moment to straighten her shirt for company. There's quite a sight to take in once Britta looks, though. Jason has his arms flung around Dick in what might be the first hug he's ever had the chance to initiate, while Roy stands a few feet away, his arm around Rowan's waist, keeping him close. Dinah is standing just inside the door, looking like she'd want to coo at how cute the boys were being if the situation weren't what it was.

Britta raises an eyebrow. "How _did_ you get an earlier flight?"

Dinah looks over at her and smiles tightly. "Another flight was cancelled at the last minute, so air traffic control let us change our flight plan." Then she raises her eyebrow in a mirror of Britta. "Nice piece of luck."

She's going to send Ollie the biggest, nicest fruit basket she can find. With wine. 

"Then I guess you and Roy haven't had time to arrange accommodation." Britta steps aside to let Alfred move into the hall.

"If you'll follow me," Alfred says smoothly without missing a beat.

"C'mon, Roy," Dinah says, slinging a bag over her shoulder. She follows Alfred without hesitating, but Roy seems reluctant to step away from Rowan. Rowan turns his head to murmur something in Roy's ear, and then pecks him on the cheek before stepping away.

"Coming," Roy says after a few seconds, reaching down to grab his own bag and head after Dinah and Alfred. Rowan's eyes follow him up the stairs until he's out of sight. Another thing she might have to worry about, then; she'll have to talk to Dick about how Rowan's taking the whole Roy-in-the-armed-forces thing. But that's a heartache for another day. For now, she's got the twins back, and something in her chest eases a little as she moves towards them and pulls Rowan into a hug.

He squeezes her tight and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "How is he?"

"Stable," Britta says. It's the first thing that surfaces in her head, and really, it's the most important thing for now. "The doctors are hopeful but it's going to be a long recovery."

"It's already been a long year," Rowan replies, sounding far too old for his sixteen years.

"We'll handle it," Britta says firmly. "One day at a time, right?"

"Right," Dick chimes in, dragging Jason over to join them.

It's probably the best group hug she's been a part of to date; it's only made better when Bruce coughs awkwardly from behind her and Rowan reaches out a hand to drag him in rather than letting him escape. Bruce heaves a put-upon sigh, but he doesn't move until there's a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Bruce says quickly, detaching himself from the group and pulling at his jacket before heading for the door. Dick snickers a little, and she can hear Jason join in, too.

"Oh," Bruce says brightly. "Hi." As they watch, he's enveloped in another hug. The snickering gets louder.

"He likes her better," Rowan whispers, and Britta can't help but laugh at that.

"I should hope so," she whispers back as Bruce lets Selina into the house.

They're all laughing by the time Selina reaches them, one eyebrow raised. "Do I have something in my hair?"

Bruce lets go of her like she's on fire, and tucks his hands behind his back.

"Cooties, apparently," Britta says. She leaves the boys to their snickering and gives Selina a hug. "Thanks for coming."

"I brought junk food," Selina says. "Why don't you boys go raid the horde."

"Food," Dick says, as if it's some kind of revelation. "We'll get it from the car, no worries."

"Leave the ice cream for your mother," Selina says sternly as the boys rush out the door. She sighs as the door closes, turning to shrug at Britta. "Well, I tried. They _might_ save you some. I got the good kind, too."

"If it's the chocolate peanut butter, they know better," Britta says.

Bruce's eyes light up. "I should help them carry everything."

Selina swats him in the arm. "You should let them have it because they're growing boys. Your overnight bag is in the back seat."

"Right," Bruce says, deflating a little as he heads for the door.

Once he's outside, Britta turns to Selina and raises an eyebrow. "Overnight bag? I didn't know you had a key to his place."

"He didn't tell you?"

"Nope," Britta says, popping the consonants.

Bruce comes back in, overnight bag slung over his shoulder, and holds the door open for the boys so they can walk in with bags upon bags of food that Alfred would normally toss out. He'll probably let it slide this time, though.

Selina smiles sweetly at Bruce. "I thought you were going to tell Britta?"

Bruce does a full-body grimace, hunching his massive shoulders. "Now didn't really seem like the right time."

"I thought you were going to tell Britta two days ago," Selina clarifies.

"I'm here now," Britta says, spreading her hands. "And I'm all ears, with a side of 'good news would sound extra great right now.'"

Bruce tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, and sighs like a put-upon teenager. He's way too tall to actually pull that off anymore, though. Not that it's ever stopped him from trying.

"So, I was advised to find an apartment with better security," he says reluctantly.

"Yeah," Britta says. That was a while ago, after everything with Damian. "You finally find a place?"

"I found a place," Bruce says, still staring at the ceiling. "Well, actually, Selina found it. It's nice, and it passes all of the security standards that Lucius put in the briefing."

Britta's starting to get the picture: the change of clothing, Bruce's awkwardness, the way Selina's eyebrow is rising steadily the longer Bruce avoids eye contact. Remembering the conversation she and Selina had before Damian was born is the final clue. She could probably make this easier, but… well. "Sounds great, Bruce. Give me the details."

Bruce heaves another sigh, and Britta has to bite her lip. So this is where Dick gets his dramatic tendencies from.

"Is something wrong?" she presses. "I mean, are there terrible neighbors or something? It sounds like you don't want to move there, with all the sighing."

"Of course I want to live there!" Bruce protests, his eyes snapping over to Selina.

"Okay, but if there's something wrong with the place, you need to figure it out now," Britta says. She's doing everything she can not to laugh. "I mean, I'm sure Selina's not going to cry if you want to repaint the living room of your own apartment before you move in."

Selina snorts, and smacks Britta on the arm. "Stop torturing him."

Bruce's eyes whip to Britta. "Wait, you - how did you know?"

"Know what?" Britta asks sweetly.

Selina rolls her eyes. "If there was ever any doubt you two are siblings..."

Dick chooses that moment to walk back in, carrying a pint of ice cream and a spoon. He hands them to Britta before looking back and forth between her and Bruce. "What'd I miss?"

"Your uncle is moving in with Selina," Britta says.

"Really?" Dick asks, eyes going wide. "Aw, Selina, you can do better, c'mon."

Selina shakes her head with mock sadness. "Alas, you and I could never be. Your parents would prosecute."

Dick bats his eyelashes. "But I'm still pretty, right?"

Selina pats him on the cheek. "The prettiest princess there ever was."

"Well, at least I have that," Dick says with a sigh that definitely echoes Bruce's from earlier. "I guess I'll have to settle for someone else. Think Wonder Girl is single? She's pretty."

Britta laughs. "I think you always set your sights high, Dick. Not that that's a bad thing."

"I will have the best or I will have nothing at all," Dick vows as Rowan and Jason walk into the room. They exchange a glance, and then move in perfect unison to tackle Dick to the floor.

"What's that you were saying about siblings, Selina?" Britta asks, amused, as the boys wrestle across the foyer.

Bruce snorts. "I don't remember you ever getting me in a headlock."

"We could change that," Britta offers, holding out her hands. "Just say the word."

Bruce puts up his fists and tries to get into a fighting stance, but he hasn't quite found the right balance when the boys crash into his legs and take him down. He flails a little before falling, and the boys absorb him into their wrestling match like that had been their plan all along. Britta wouldn't actually be surprised to find that was the truth. Selina moves up onto the stairs so she can't be folded into the mess, and Britta grins, turning to her left to suggest Harvey does the same.

Her face falls as she remembers, and suddenly she can't stop her hands from shaking. He's not here. Of course he's not here; he's in the hospital, unconscious and lucky to be alive. He won't be home for months, and when he gets here she'll have to admit that she failed. She still hasn't found their son. It feels like it's all she can do to draw a breath without crying.

She stumbles away, barely making it to her study and behind a locked door before her eyes start streaming. It's stupid. She feels stupid. This won't help. But all she can think about is how much she wishes Damian were here, so she could hold him and tell him how much he means to them both, how hard Harvey's going to fight to come back to them. She wants Harvey here, too, supporting her and helping her look for their son. She wants to rewind to April, when everything was still intact, and warn herself of what was about to happen. She wants to have the good goddamn sense to pack up her family and get far away from Gotham.

She leans on her desk and tries not to cry too loudly, but she can't be all that successful because she doesn't hear the door open.

"Chin up, my dear," Alfred says as he sets a cup of tea on her desk. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

Britta chokes back a sob. "You haven't called me that since I was seven years old."

"Has it been that long?" Alfred asks mildly. He grabs the tissue box from the edge of Britta's desk and offers it to her. "I'll have to find situations in which to use it more often, then."

Britta doesn't have it in her to smile, but she takes a handful of tissues and remembers her manners. "Thank you, Alfred. For everything." Through every upheaval in her life, he's always been her constant.

"Of course," Alfred says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Do let me know if there's anything at all that I can do."

Britta sniffles. "I think just this once the boys can survive on pizza."

"And quite happily so," Alfred replies.

He takes her hand and squeezes, not even blinking when she blows her nose loudly with her free hand. All of a sudden she remembers him brushing her hair, helping her get ready to meet her baby brother. She remembers wholeheartedly wishing Alfred was her father. But then, in all the ways that matter... he is.

"When you're ready, we should inform the boys of their good fortune in supper," Alfred says, squeezing her hand. "After everyone is properly nourished, we can figure out what to do about the future."

"Yay," Britta says weakly, but she straightens up and wipes her face. She takes a deep breath and manages a wobbly smile. "Let's not keep the rabble waiting."

"Indeed not," Alfred says, squeezing her hand once more before dropping it.

He moves ahead to open the door for her, and lifts a hand to rest a hand on her shoulder when she gets close enough. "One last thing: you have a house full of people who wish to assist you however you see fit. It would be quite rude not to take advantage of it." He raises an eyebrow at her, and Britta nods.

"Yes sir," she quips, raising an eyebrow right back at him.

He nods, eyes twinkling a little, and gestures for her to go ahead of him.

Britta straightens her shoulders, pastes a smile on her face, and goes.

-0-

The list of Harvey's injuries, once he's awake and the doctors can get a more accurate diagnosis, is extensive and gut-wrenching. Britta clings to Alfred's hand as she's given the whole prognosis, and even he goes a little pale. Thankfully, the trauma doctor is good at dealing with traumatized families. She outlines the steps they'll need to take next and gives them the names of the doctors who will work with the hospital. The list of names is long enough that it reminds Britta of the last time she took applications for a PA, but she's glad to have it. At least she'll have a head start for running background checks on everyone who'll be working with Harvey. At least it gives her something to focus on while the doctors get Harvey stable again now that he's conscious.

It's hell watching him struggle with pain management. He's always been the type to work through the aches and pains of day-to-day life, but seeing him try to grit his teeth and bear it while his injuries are so severe is awful. Britta steels herself to do something she's been putting off for a long time now: gaining access to Harvey's sealed records from the Family Court. She knows his father spent some time in prison, but she didn't want to push Harvey to talk about it until he was ready. Now, though, it seems like his history is holding him back from accepting treatment.

It's everything she was fearing. From everything she finds, Lester Dent had been a stain on humanity. Why he'd ever adopted a child is beyond Britta. The only bright spot is that Harvey's mother had the man's rights terminated while he was behind bars. Lester had also been a confirmed alcoholic and suspected drug addict, which goes a long way towards explaining why Harvey doesn't want anything stronger than acetaminophen.

Britta isn't really sure what to do with the information. She's never told Harvey outright about the beatings her father used to deal out to her mother, confident that his medical knowledge would help him hide the evidence; if she brings it up now out of the blue he'll know something is up. In the meantime, the only drugs Harvey will accept are the ones that the doctors give him to prevent infection.

He doesn't want the boys to visit either, doesn't want them to see him like this, and Britta holds them off as long as she can. She's still not really surprised when she drops by the hospital and finds them hovering around Harvey's bed. At the end of the day they're family; Dick and Rowan and Jason have lost enough family members in their short lives already, so they cling to the ones they have left.

"-don't care what you look like," Dick insists as Britta walks in. "We still think you're awesome."

"Last time I spoke to the nurses, three guests at a time was too much," Britta says.

Harvey looks over at her with something like relief in his eyes.

Jason crosses his arms over his chest and gives her his most stubborn look. "We wanted to see Harvey. He's _family_."

"And family means nobody gets left behind," Dick adds. "Or forgotten."

Rowan looks at him with disbelief. "Did you seriously just quote _Lilo and Stitch_?"

"You can take turns," Britta says firmly, unmoved by the eyes of betrayal all three of them shoot her way.

"Me first," Jason says. He shoots the other two a look, and for whatever reason, they don't fight him. Clearly there's something going on here that she's not privy to.

"Okay." Britta nods, and gestures at the twins. "You two come with me. We need to talk about you going places without security."

"We were careful," Rowan grumbles, but the two of them get up and follow her out. "Bullock knows where we are."

"You told him? And he just let you go?"

Dick shifts a little. "We left him a note."

Britta presses her lips together in an effort not to start yelling, mostly because she's not sure she could stop.

"Pull that stunt again and I'll call security," Harvey says, his voice rough from disuse.

"Harvey," Dick starts, sounding wounded.

"I'm serious," Harvey says. He stops to cough a little, but never looks away from the boys. "The guys who did this to me wouldn't hesitate to hurt you."

"And it happened in a public courtroom when we were surrounded by guards," Britta adds.

"You're here now," Harvey says, leaning back against his pillows. "Don't come again unless your mother says you can."

Jason lays a hand on Harvey's arm. "Sorry we freaked you out."

Harvey manages a tiny smile with the healthy part of his face. "Thanks, kiddo."

Dick and Rowan mumble their apologies and trail out the door after Britta.

Britta shuts the door, leaving Jason and Harvey alone, and turns to glare at the twins. "What were you thinking?"

She expects Rowan to go on the defensive, but surprisingly he folds almost immediately when she starts reading them the riot act. It doesn't make her less upset with them but it does help Britta remember to keep herself calm instead of losing it in the middle of the hospital. "You lied to me," she finishes, not quite managing to keep the wobble out of her voice, "and you never once stopped to think about what it would do to Harvey if something happened to you on your way to see him. He already blames himself for Damian."

"That's not his fault," Dick says.

"No, it's not," Britta agrees. "And you'll never convince him of it."

"We screwed up," Rowan says, in a tone so heavy with regret he sounds like most people would if they accidentally hit a dog with their car.

Britta nods. "And you're going to apologize. First to Harvey, and then to Detective Bullock."

Rowan grimaces but he nods in agreement. Dick opens his mouth to protest, looks at Rowan, and closes his mouth again. Britta narrows her eyes. If Dick honestly doesn't see anything wrong with what he did, then maybe she needs to bench him for a while. It's definitely not a decision she's going to make right now, though. She's still too mad to think clearly, so she'll table it until they're home and she can think about it more.

"I'm sorry we took off without asking," Dick says carefully. "But you can't just shut us out. We're not little kids."

Britta swallows hard. Somehow it hadn't occurred to her that she'd be the one taking the blame. "I know it's not easy," she says. "We're doing our best, though. And if you boys have a problem, you need to talk to me about it, not just decide that you know best."

"I know," Rowan says, laying a hand on Dick's shoulder and squeezing tight enough that the knuckles go white. "We're _very sorry_."

She studies them for a moment. There's definitely something going on with the two of them; she'll have to pay more attention. "Okay. Good. When Jason's done, you can convince Harvey how sorry you are."

-0-

For all he protested them seeing him in the hospital, the boys' visit does seem to do Harvey some good. His mood seems a little lighter in the days following, and he starts cooperating more when the nurses bring his medication. Britta doesn't pry into why, but she's got the feeling it had something to do with whatever Jason had said. Harvey loves the twins, but he and Jason have bonded over things that Dick and Rowan just don't have the context for. She doesn't want to take the relatively good news for granted, either, so she starts bringing work to the hospital. If she can squeeze in an hour of reading reports while the boys have their time with Harvey, maybe she'll eventually catch up on the backlog.

Getting daytime things done during the day frees up more of her nights; she goes out looking, trying to find any hint about where Damian might be, or who might have a scrap of information. She can only imagine how much good it will do Harvey to have Damian back, too.

Rowan and Dick bombard her with so many questions about her renewed investigation that she ends up letting them take turns coming along. It's interesting working with their new personas; she's so used to them being the bright spots in her night that it's disconcerting to see them slip their way through the darkness. Jason sulks when they head out without him, but Britta reminds him he has tutoring to get through if he wants to keep up with his class. He was lucky to make it through eighth grade without failing any of his classes, considering his spotty history before Britta took him in. High school is going to be a lot tougher, if he doesn't put the work in now.

Harvey is finally released towards the end of July, and they settle into the new normal. It's great having him home again, but at the same time, it adds a whole new level of stress for Britta. Being back in a familiar environment is supposed to help him adjust, but it only seems to remind him of how much has changed, how much he's lost. The result is that Harvey's on a short fuse, getting frustrated quickly when Britta's too busy to help him get dressed or when the bandage over his bad eye makes him knock into things. He's less likely to blow up at his physical therapists, which is good, since he spends a lot of time with them. He goes every single day, working on the routines that the therapists have set out for rehabilitating different parts of his body.

The thing is, considering it's only been just over a month since the attack, Harvey's physical therapy is going well. By all accounts he's making amazing progress, but it's going too slowly for his liking. The damage to the nerves in his hand is substantial, and the doctors say it's highly likely he'll need more surgery. It's not a shock to hear that, but Harvey's expression closes off when the doctor brings it up. He turns his face away from Britta, and she tries to remind herself that he's not withdrawing - he's probably just trying to listen with his good ear.

Britta reaches over and takes Harvey's right hand, looking at the doctor. "So the next step is another surgery?"

"To improve range of motion, yes."

"Okay," Britta says, looking over at Harvey. He hasn't moved, and after a moment of waiting for him to say something, Britta sighs and looks back to the doctor. "When can we schedule that for?"

She takes down the details, thanks the doctor for his time, and pulls Harvey up out of his seat. "Do you want to do this?" she asks when she closes the door behind them.

He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Do I have a choice?"

Britta squeezes his hand. "Of course you have a choice. We can ask what happens if we delay the surgery, or..."

"I'm tired," he says abruptly. "Let's just go."

"Okay." They head down the hall, and Harvey lets go of her hand when they reach the elevator. He folds his arms over his chest, tucking away his bad hand.

Britta isn't sure what to do, not now and not in the long run. It's not that Harvey's giving up, but it seems like he's losing some of his will to fight to get better. She's got no idea about how to help him.

They go down to the hospital's underground parking lot, which has been their saving grace dozens of times since the media got word that Harvey is recovering, and when Alfred pulls up Harvey gets in the front passenger seat. Britta takes a deep breath, steels herself, and gets in the back alone.

She busies herself by texting an update to Ethel. It's been their system since day one; whenever there's news, Ethel gets an update ASAP. Britta lets her know the date for the next surgery and sits back to wait for her reply.

"Alfred, I need to go to the office," Harvey says abruptly.

Britta tenses a little. "The office?"

"I got an email from Kulaga," Harvey says, and Britta frowns. Harvey's boss is supposed to run everything through Ethel. "He wants me to come in and give him an update in person, see if we can come up with some sort of timetable." He pauses. "I was asked to come in to discuss the upcoming campaign for DA."

"Oh." Personally, Britta's not sure how the whole campaign thing is going to work; it was going to consume Harvey's life before he got hurt, but now that he's in such intensive physical therapy and facing down several more surgeries before he's back in shape, she's not sure he's going to be able to do it. "Ethel didn't tell me," she says, stalling for time while she thinks about it.

She can see Harvey shrug. "I don't think Kulaga told her. She wasn't copied in on the email."

Oh, great, one more thing to worry about. How is Britta supposed to juggle her schedule with Harvey's if Ethel doesn't even know what Harvey's schedule _is_?

"Okay," she says. Harvey's been losing his enthusiasm for pretty much everything lately. Maybe going back into the office for a little while will remind him of some of what he's working for. "Let's go downtown, then."

"You can just drop me off," Harvey says tightly. "It's fine."

"I've got some things I wanted to go over with Ethel," Britta says. "You and Kulaga can have your meeting while she and I chat."

"Fine." Harvey's silent for the rest of the drive, and Britta has to swallow down the urge to ask what's wrong. He hates it when she asks him that.

Thanks to midday traffic, it takes almost half an hour to get from the hospital to City Hall. Harvey jumps out the second Alfred pulls the car up to the curb, and Britta almost has to run to keep up with him. She's a few steps behind him when he reaches security, but she can still see his shoulders tense visibly when they stop him and ask for ID.

"Harvey!" Kulaga says from down the entrance hallway. He appears a moment later and motions to one of the guard. "Let him in, boys. He's one of us."

Harvey goes with him without a backward glance.

Britta sighs as she pulls out her driver's license and hands it over for inspection. The guards copy down her information, and a few minutes later, Britta is hurrying her way to the district attorney's suite in the back of the building. She waits outside Ethel's office for a few minutes while she finishes up a phone call, and then the secretary waves Britta through.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ethel asks, smiling at Britta.

"Harvey's meeting with Kulaga about the DA campaign."

Ethel freezes. "What? Right now?"

Britta nods. "Yeah. He said you weren't copied in on the email."

Ethel leans back and sighs. "That's probably because I was so involved with Harvey's campaign. If they're shutting me out, it means they've chosen someone else to handle the new candidate."

"Oh, god. You don't think Kulaga's just dropping that bomb on him unannounced, do you?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him. Give me a minute and I'll try to call through to his office." Ethel picks up her phone.

All Britta can do is wait.

Ethel has a quick conversation with someone before hanging up and shaking her head. "Julia doesn't know what the content of the meeting is, but she can see through the window into Kulaga's office. She says Harvey looks, quote, 'agitated.'"

"Does she know who the candidate is?"

"She didn't say, but I've heard Vernon Fields' name being mentioned."

Britta's stomach lurches. "Fields. But he's barely worked here for a year."

"I know," Ethel says. "But he's young, he's bright, and he worked with Harvey. I think they're hoping the tie to Gotham's former golden boy will push him through."

"Harvey doesn't trust him. He never did, before, and it's only gotten worse since-" Britta cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. "You know Fields was the last one to talk to Holiday."

Ethel frowns. "I know, and I wouldn't trust him any further than I could throw him. But technically the investigation cleared him."

"You don't buy it," Britta guesses.

"Neither do you."

"And neither does Harvey," Britta says, standing up. "I'm going to wait outside Kulaga's office. If he tells Harvey that Fields is replacing him, he's going to need a lot of support when he gets out of there."

She's too late. When she gets there, the door of Kulaga's office is standing open and the glass pane is smashed. Harvey's already gone.

Kulaga has an arm around Julia, who's clearly trying to hold herself together. He looks up when Britta walks in. "I have no idea where he went," he starts.

"I'll find him," she promises.

"Security will find him," Kulaga snaps back.

Britta stops in her tracks and regards Kulaga coolly. "Consider this: if you'd taken the time to schedule this meeting with Ethel, and Harvey had had the proper support system in place here, none of this would have happened. Good thing you cut out the middle man, huh?"

"If I'd known he was so unhinged-"

"If you'd fucking asked, anyone with half a brain would've told you that he almost _died_ , and you took away the last thing he had left."

"He can come back when he's fit for the job," Kulaga says stubbornly. "I just don't think he's going to be ready this time, so we're going with a candidate who is."

"I don't have time for this," Britta snaps, heading for the hallway again. "You'd better hope he's okay, Kulaga, because anything that he does right now is on your hands."

She doesn't find him. She looks, and she hopes, and if she were a different person maybe she'd pray, but it never helped before so she doesn't bother now. Instead she talks to security, and they tell her Harvey stormed past them. She calls Alfred, hoping that he went to the car to cool off, but Alfred hasn't seen him.

Britta can feel herself starting to panic, her chest squeezing tight just like the night Damian disappeared, so she doubles back to Ethel's office.

"I'm getting the security footage," Ethel says as soon as Britta steps inside. "Julia called me, filled me in on what happened. Don't worry, Britta. We'll find him."

Don't worry. Hah, don't worry, _don't worry_. Your husband's been maimed, but don't worry. He's lashing out at people, and possibly on the brink of something terrible, but for god's sake don't worry. Britta has to bite her lip to stop herself from cracking up laughing. Worrying is all she does these days. It's all she's done since Harvey's apartment was blown up, since Damian was taken from her, since Bruce had to double his security, since Harvey was almost murdered and spent so long in the hospital...

"Breathe," Ethel says gently, and suddenly she's right beside Britta, tugging her towards a chair. "I know this is rough, hon. You've been through more in the past year than anyone could withstand, but right now I need you to sit down and take a deep breath. Concentrate on my voice, okay?"

Britta squeezes her eyes shut and sits down heavily.

"We will find him," Ethel repeats. "And when we find him and figure out what Kulaga said, there's going to be hell to pay." There's steel in Ethel's voice; it's not the first time Britta's been grateful for Ethel, but it's just as welcome as ever.

She leans on Ethel's shoulder, and drinks the cup of water Julia brings her, and once again, she waits.

-0-

The police aren't any help; since Harvey's an adult who no longer needs supervision for medical reasons, he can't be reported as a missing person until he's been gone for 48 hours. Britta goes home and tells the boys what's going on, and it's all she can do to keep them from putting on their suits and scouring the streets for him in broad daylight. She ends up having to use dirty tactics, reminding them all that Harvey doesn't know their alternate identities and it'd be a bad idea to scare him right now. The hours drag by with no contact from Harvey, and by the time Britta forces herself to go to sleep, she's utterly exhausted. She manages about three fitful hours, and then Alfred knocks on her door to tell her the police are here.

"Police?" she asks, forcing herself to sit up instead of burrowing under the sheets like she wants to do. "What's going on? Did something happen to Harvey?"

"They want to speak with you, ma'am. I assume they would be less circumspect if something had happened to him."

Britta tries not to jump to conclusions, but she knows that Alfred is right. "Okay. Let me get dressed and run a brush through my hair and I'll be down."

She only takes ten minutes, but when she gets downstairs the officers look impatient. Gordon isn't with them; Britta can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing at this point.

"Is your husband home?" one of the officers says without even introducing himself.

Britta frowns. "No. I tried to report him missing yesterday."

"When's the last time you saw him?" the other one asks.

"What happened?" Britta asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Just answer the question, ma'am."

"It's in my report," she snaps. "Just read it."

"We just need to know-" the second one starts.

"I need your names and badge numbers," Britta says. "Now, please."

"If you're harboring him-"

"That's enough, boys," a gruff voice says. 

Britta has never been so glad to see Harvey Bullock in her life. "Detective," she says, nodding. "What's going on?"

Bullock scrubs the back of his neck. "Your kids at home? 'Cause this ain't somethin' they should hear."

"They're still sleeping," Britta says. "They all crashed in Jason's room last night for solidarity. I'm willing to bet they kept each other up for hours."

"There was an incident, and we need to talk to Dent about it."

"I'd really appreciate a little more than that, Detective," Britta says. "Please don't make me figure out what happened from a news broadcast."

"Someone assaulted Vernon Fields. He's in the hospital, and the docs don’t know when he’ll wake up."

"Oh my god." Britta can feel the blood draining from her face. "And - is there any evidence linking Harvey to the attack?"

Bullock frowns. "We got video of Dent entering Fields' apartment, but at this stage we just want to find out if he saw anything."

Britta makes her way over to the sofa and sits heavily. She debates with herself for a moment before looking up at Bullock. "You're going to find out soon enough anyway, so I might as well tell you now. Harvey found out yesterday that Fields was replacing him as the candidate for DA in the election this fall." She shakes her head. "I don't think he'd do something drastic, but…"

"So he's really not here?" Bullock presses. "If he's in a bad way..."

"I haven't seen him since we got to his office yesterday," she replies. "I went to the station to report him as missing when he didn't come back after a couple of hours, but the intake officer told me I couldn't. His name was Ramirez; he might remember me coming in about it."

"You might want to think about staying some place else until we find him."

"We're not in danger from him," Britta says firmly. "We're his family. He's hurting, he's mad, but that's got nothing to do with us."

"Better safe than sorry, right?" Then Bullock takes her aside and mutters, "That way you avoid certain over-eager gumshoes who want to charge you as an accessory."

"I really don't want to sue the GCPD," Britta says tiredly. "I can take the kids downtown for a few weeks, but I'm going to move them back here before school starts again. There's only so much I'm willing to disrupt their lives at this point."

"Fair enough." Bullock raises his voice so the other officers can hear. "Don't leave the state, and give us a call if Dent contacts you."

"Right," Britta says. "And if you hear from my husband, don't make me find that out from the news, either." She glares at the two officers, who are clearly trying not to fidget. "And please don't send these two to tell me." If they're an example of Gordon's attempts to clean up corruption in GCPD, his efforts won't get very far.

Bullock shakes his head. "New transfers. Guess they forgot what happened to your boy."

"I don't want special treatment just because of all the crap that's been piled on my family this year," Britta says tightly. "I should think that everyone deserves a little bit of compassion when their spouse is being accused of putting a man in a coma. That shouldn't be exclusive to me."

"Right now he's a material witness." Bullock hooks his thumb over his shoulder at the other two officers. "I'll have a word about _procedure_."

Bullock leads the officers out of the room with a jerk of his head, and Alfred walks them to the door.

Britta takes a deep breath, heads back upstairs, and knocks on Dinah's door. It takes Dinah a few minutes to get to the door, and Britta feels bad for waking her up; Dinah's only been home from patrol for a few hours, but she opens her door ready to go.

"I have a problem," Britta says flatly. "Can I come in?"

"Absolutely," Dinah says, stepping back and gesturing for Britta to enter.

"So, the police think Harvey tried to kill someone," Britta says as soon as the door closes behind her. "They're calling him a material witness, but we both know what that means."

"Kill someone?" Dinah blinks. "What do you think?"

"I have no idea. He wrecked his boss' office yesterday, and he's damn lucky no charges were filed."

Dinah winces. "I hate to ask, but how well did you really know him before you got married?"

"There are questions I didn't ask," Britta says. "Things I knew he was messed up about. I figured we'd have time."

"Do you trust the local cops to bring him in? He's still a state attorney, right? We could try to get Kate Spencer to weigh in."

"I trust maybe four cops in Gotham," Britta says, trying not to sound bitter. "And I don't want to get a lot of people involved in this until we know exactly what's going on."

"Okay, so we brainstorm." Dinah sits on the bed and pats the space beside her. "We should get Alfred to put on coffee. Lots of coffee."

"Yeah," Britta replies, dropping to the bed. "I'm sure he's already on top of that."

"Well, then, I guess the rest is easy," Dinah says dryly, raising an eyebrow at her.

Britta laughs, short and bitter, but she puts her head down and they get to work.

-0-

Two weeks pass, and neither the capes nor the cops find any sign of Harvey. Wherever he's gone to ground, it's nowhere near any of his usual haunts. Fields wakes up thirteen days after the attack; it's a small bright spot, because the doctors say he's going to make a full recovery eventually, but even when the news is released to the media Harvey doesn't come home. Britta has no idea what to think, or how to talk to the boys about it. She finds it harder and harder to put on a brave face, and she's not the only one. Rowan is moping because Roy finally left for bootcamp, and Dick is moping because Rowan's moping, so when Jason's fourteenth birthday rolls around Britta decides a trip out for ice cream sundaes is in order.

Even though they only returned from their hotel stay a few days ago, Jason seems happy enough that they're getting out of the house for a while, and Britta can't help but smile when he orders a huge cup of Neapolitan and digs in before Britta has the chance to pay. Then he lets slip around a mouthful of chocolate that he thought maybe she'd forget him this year, and she has to squeeze in next to him in the booth to embarrass him with Mom-hugs.

"I'm just sorry I couldn't throw you a huge party this year," she says, squeezing him to her side. "If you want to plan something for before school starts, that would be fine."

Jason shakes his head. "Nah. It doesn't really feel like party time, y'know?"

Her heart breaks a little, but she smiles at him. "I guess not. Rain check, then."

"Mhm." Jason takes another huge bite of ice cream and gives her a disgusting, toothy smile.

"I do have something for you, though," Britta says. She pulls a little box from her pocket and sets it on the table. It's only about three inches square, half an inch thick, and Jason's attention is instantly focused on it. He tears open the wrapping with wild abandon, oblivious to the ribbon dropping into his sundae.

There's a few seconds of stunned silence when he pulls the top of the box open, and his eyes go wide as saucers. Finally, he squeaks out, "Really?"

"You've been ready for a while," Britta replies softly. "But I wanted to be the one to take you out for the first time. I'm sorry I've been distracted."

Jason lets out a delighted little giggle as he lifts the Robin badge out of the box. "And Dick and Rowan, they're okay with it?"

Britta nods. "You know they've been field-testing a redesign for a while now." With everything that's happened this past year, the two of them have grown and changed in ways she can't keep track of anymore. It hasn't been easy to take a step back and let them breathe, but it needs to be done. Otherwise she could lose them entirely.

"Wow," Jason says, pinning the badge to his chest and smiling widely. "This is the best birthday present ever."

"Oh, did I say that was your only present?" Britta puts on an innocent face.

"It doesn't even matter," Jason says, digging back into his ice cream. "It can't possibly beat this."

She puts a larger box on the table, and he tears into it. His new red-and-green helmet gleams under the diner's fluorescent lights.

"Okay, this still doesn't beat the first one, but it's really, really close," Jason says after a moment. "Tell me it comes with something to use it with."

Britta smiles. "If you're not too cool to ride with your mom."

"I am definitely not too cool to ride with my mom," Jason says, tracing the line of the visor. "As long as I get to ride it by myself eventually. When I'm bigger."

"That's the plan, yeah."

"Awesome," Jason says, still grinning like crazy. "This is… seriously awesome."

It's nice to hear him sounding like a teenager again, and not an old man trapped in a kid's body. Jason's starting high school at the end of the summer; he _should_ get to be excited about potentially-dangerous presents. "I'll show you when we get home," Britta promises.

Jason sets his present aside and starts bolting down his ice cream, barely pausing to pick the wrapping paper out of it.

"It'll still be there in an hour," Britta says, amused. "I even made your brothers swear not to touch it until you got a ride."

Jason swallows hard, and then throws his head back and crows. A few people turn to stare at him, but the bouncy helium "Happy birthday!" balloon tied to the back of his chair - courtesy of the waitress - apparently explains everything. Jason's exuberant fist pump and the ribbon spilling off the table don't hurt either, Britta's sure.

Jason finishes his ice cream in record time, somehow managing not to get brain freeze, and sits across the table making puppy dog eyes at Britta until she finishes hers too. He grabs her empty cup as soon as she sets it down on the table. "I'll throw it out for you," he says, and proceeds to do his best impersonation of Wally West in his haste to get to the garbage can and back.

Jason fidgets in his seat for the entire drive back to the manor. It's not a long drive, but by the time they get home, Jason looks ready to jump out of the car and run full-tilt into the Cave.

"Okay, I need to get changed," Jason says as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Okay," Britta replies. "Alfred made a few alterations to the suit you've been practicing in. It's in your locker."

He barely manages to wait until the parking brake is engaged before he throws the door open and takes off. But he doesn't get far before he turns around and comes back.

"Wait, where's my bike hiding?"

"At Babs' Clocktower," Britta replies. "It's on its way over now."

"Okay. Okay, cool. I'll be ready when it gets here."

Britta bites her lip. "I'm sure you will."

"Right," Jason says, disappearing inside. He pops back out a few seconds later. "Are you coming? Should I get Dick and Rowan? I want them to see how awesome I look as Robin. And Alfred, he should see too."

He disappears for a few minutes and then comes back again, still wearing his jeans but half-wearing his Robin vest. "I need my helmet."

"You should probably put the rest of your costume on first," Britta advises. "I mean, at least the domino, right?"

"Good plan."

He disappears for a moment before coming back in and making grabby hands at the helmet box. His domino is a little crooked, but it's not obstructing his sight, so Britta decides to let it go. He jams the helmet on and immediately pulls it back off again so he can straighten his domino.

"I bet I look awesome," he declares when he jams the helmet back on. "How awesome do I look?"

"Totally awesome," Britta manages to say with a straight face. He's wearing loose jeans, a crooked Robin vest and trailing cape, and a shiny helmet; he looks like a skater trying to pick a Halloween costume.

"Totally awesome," Jason echoes. His grin can be heard through the helmet. "Holy shit, I'm Robin."

"Well, half of you is Robin," Britta points out. "The other half of you would love to also be Robin, if you'd just put the tights on."

Jason sighs. "Tights are evil."

"Tights are important," Britta says. "They help with temperature control, they're made of a Kevlar weave that will help protect you if you're ever in, god forbid, an explosion-"

"I know," Jason whines. "But I don't have to like them."

He goes back into the changing rooms again, and he's gone for a long time but Britta can hear him cursing. She waits a few minutes before calling, "Everything okay in there?"

"I'm good!" Jason calls back. Then there's a crashing sound.

"Now convince me," Britta says dryly. "Do you want me to come help, or should I call one of your brothers?"

"I've got it, I've got it." Jason comes hopping out of the locker room, still straightening his tights.

"I see," Britta says, biting her lip. She walks around Jason slowly. "I think I know why you had so much trouble getting them on."

"Yeah?"

"They're backwards," Britta offers. "They probably slid on right, but you had trouble getting the shirt to latch to the inside of the pants, right? The latches aren't centered on the seams. It'll work a lot better if the pants are on the other way."

"Aw, man!" Jason complains, turning on his heel.

"I can have Alfred put a tag in the back," Britta calls after him.

She doesn't catch his reply, because the Cave is filled with the roaring of Dinah and Babs arriving on the bike.

"Is that it?" Jason yells. "That's it! That's my bike!" He comes running out of the changing room without his tights, and Britta can't quite hold back her laugh at the look he presents: Robin from the waist up, sleepy teenaged boy in boxer briefs from the waist down.

The engine cuts out and Babs swings off the back of the bike. When she catches sight of Jason, she flips up her visor and wolf-whistles. Jason's blush creeps down his neck, but he strikes a pose.

"Wow," Babs says. "Very imposing." She crosses the room while Dinah's parking the bike, and flips up Jason's visor. "Are you - why are you wearing a domino under your helmet?"

"Extra mystery," Jason says promptly. "Why were _you_ hanging on so tight to Dinah?"

"Have you ever ridden with Dinah?" Babs asks, flicking Jason's nose. "You'd be able to answer your own question if you had."

Britta raises an eyebrow and looks at Dinah, who's smirking and pulling the collar of her shirt up a little, presumably to hide the hickey on her neck. Britta rolls her eyes.

"No, but I've ridden with Wally," Jason brags. "Excuse me, ladies."

"Pants," Britta says sharply as Jason heads for the bike. The last thing she needs is for Jason to accidentally burn his bare leg on the exhaust pipe.

Jason sighs like she's the worst mom in the world. He does head back towards the dressing room, though, so she'll take it.

Once he's out of earshot, Babs cracks up laughing. "He's so cute," she gasps. "God, he makes me feel old, though."

"You and me both," Dinah says, coming up behind her and keeping a careful half-foot of distance between them.

Britta raises an eyebrow. "If you two are happy, then I'm happy, and I don't care," she says after a minute of the least subtle glances she's seen since Roy left. Dinah raises her chin, the very picture of _I have no idea what you're talking about_ , but Babs gives her a small smile. After the mess with Helena, it's nice to see her look so much more relaxed.

"Heads up, Robin coming through," Jason calls out. They all turn to look at the changing area, and a moment later Jason comes running out, launches into a tumble that has Grayson written all over it, and pops up with both hands in the air.

"You remembered to stick the landing!" Dick says from the stairs, clearly thrilled. "Also, whoa. How's it feel, Robin?"

"It feels _awesome_! I think this suit gives me magic." To prove his point Jason does a handspring.

"Nah, that's just practice," Rowan says as he enters the Cave behind Dick. "Looking good, though. When do you start?"

Britta clears her throat. "I thought the four of us could head out tonight."

"Really?" Dick and Jason chorus, grinning widely. Even Rowan looks less down in the dumps than he has in a while.

"Really," Britta confirms.

"Guess we should get changed, then." Rowan ruffles Jason's hair, laughing at his indignant squeak and dodging a poke to the ribs.

Jason rolls his shoulders as Dick and Rowan head for the lockers. He grins up at Britta. "This is the best birthday of my life," he proclaims.

Britta drags him into a hug. "You say that every year."

"It keeps being true," he says. There's a pause, and then he says, "But you're gonna have to step up your game next year if you want to beat this, I'm just saying."

When the twins come back out, Dinah snorts. "Your boys are all colors of the rainbow," she mutters for Britta's ears only.

Britta grins. It's true; between the three of them, they're really only missing the purple. "Don't make that a challenge, please."

"They're not exactly subtle."

Britta shrugs. "Hiding in plain sight. The places we go and the people we meet aren't exactly known for sartorial restraint."

"She's talking about pimps and hookers," Babs stage-whispers.

"You forgot the money-runners and self-important wiseguys," Britta adds.

Dinah snorts. "Ah, Gotham."

Britta just smiles and goes to get her costume together. This city chews people up and spits them out, broken and half-digested. So if until then the inhabitants want to wear bright, pretty things in cheap, easily-replaceable fabrics, who is she to judge?

"Let's get going," she says when everyone's changed. "We've got crime to fight."

Jason fistpumps. "Dibs on the bike."

"Right, like that's a surprise," Rowan says. Britta can practically hear his eyes rolling beneath the mask. “Happy birthday, Jason. Punch a creep in the teeth for justice."

Britta climbs on the bike and Jason gets behind her, waving wildly at his audience. She taps on the side of her helmet, turning on her communicator. "Ready?" she asks.

Jason lets go of her for a moment, and she hears his comm click on as well. "Ready," he says. "Let's go kick some butts."

She places his hands securely on her hips and guns the engine, grinning as he whoops and yells all the way through the Cave.

-0-

Being back in the Batsuit is more of a relief than Britta really knows how to express. After so long out of action, being the one who meets Commissioner Gordon on the roof of the police station when the signal is lit feels almost like coming home.

"Commissioner," she says, stepping out of the shadows.

He startles, just like always. It takes a moment, but he grins. "Nice to have you back. I'm hoping your absence was for a year away from this lovely city of ours, and nothing bad."

Britta forces herself to shrug. "It had its ups and downs. What's the situation?"

Gordon sighs. "Have you been keeping up with Gotham politics and news during your sabbatical?"

"Of course."

"Vernon Fields is dead."

Britta's stomach drops. She's never been more glad that the cowl covers so much of her face. "Dent?"

"No," Gordon says, shaking his head, and Britta wants to steady herself on something, that's how strong the relief is. "Someone claiming to be a cousin of Fields'. The guards at the door checked his ID and let him in, and when he left ten minutes later, he'd smothered Fields with a pillow and rewired the machinery so it wouldn't alert the nurses' station. They didn't figure it out for an hour."

"Dent always said Falcone was involved with what happened to him," Britta says. "We could be looking at an attempt to tie up loose ends."

"We can't link anyone to anything at this point," Gordon says, clearly frustrated. "I did think of the Falcone angle, but we can't ID the guy who got to Fields, and all of the records have mysteriously vanished. We've got nothing."

Britta nods. The fact that they have nothing makes her lean even more towards professional hit.

"Anything you can dig up would be appreciated even more than normal," Gordon says, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. "Dent's a friend, and I'd love to give his wife some good news for a change."

"I'll see what I can do," Britta says vaguely. She hasn't been able to turn up anything about Harvey in three weeks, and she's still getting back into the swing of patrol; some of her street contacts have moved on in her absence. "You'll be dealing with me from now on."

"Good, good," Gordon says. "Not that your stand-in wasn't, ah, lovely, but I'd rather deal with the original model."

She steps back into the shadows and lets herself smirk. She's never heard Huntress described as _lovely_ in quite that tone before. "I'll keep you updated," she says, and then she dives off the roof.

Britta swings across the city to meet up with the three boys in Grant Park. For once they're doing exactly what she told them to do: covering the dark corners in a grid. She lands next to Jason on a rooftop, startling him badly enough that she has to catch his fist before it connects with her ribs. "Any news?"

"A couple creeps went home with a limp." His tone is flat, so clearly something’s not right, but she doesn’t want to get distracted in the field without someone to watch their backs.

"Good work," she settles for saying, and ruffles Jason's hair. "Nightwing, Flamebird, meet at Point Three in fifteen. Robin, follow me. Batman out."

There are thirty different "points" around Gotham - places that Britta has designated as safe places to meet and talk without being easily seen. Point Three is five blocks away from Grant Park, and fifteen minutes is plenty of time for Dick and Rowan to take different routes there so they won't be followed.

She gets there first and scouts the area just in case; in Gotham during the summer, you never know who's going to be sleeping rough in a doorway or on a rooftop. She doesn't see anyone or anything, so when the twins drop onto the roof within minutes of each other she tells them to take out their mid-patrol snacks. Combining snack time and meeting time is always a good plan, when they can manage it.

She gives the boys a minute to get settled, and then asks, "What happened, Robin?"

Jason stalks across the rooftop and barrels straight into her. His arms wrap around her waist and squeeze tight. Britta's arms come up around him automatically. 

Rowan steps up close and lays a hand on Jason's shoulder. "We came across a john who decided he didn't need to pay."

Jason squeezes her more tightly for a moment and buries his face in shoulder. "I think I broke his leg," he mumbles.

Britta squeezes him back. It's becoming apparent that Jason struggles to deal with sexual violence - not that any of them find it easy, but his response is visceral, swift, and brutal. "Do you need to call it a night, Robin?"

"No," he says immediately. "Just… as long as I can stick with you?"

"Alright."

His shoulders lose a lot of their tension. "Okay. Good."

She lets go of him and reaches under her cape for her secret weapon: a flask of hot cocoa. Jason's eyes light up when he gets a whiff, and he drinks about half of it in one go before lowering it from his mouth. "Uh," he asks a little sheepishly, "does anyone want some cocoa?"

"I think you need it more, Tweety," Dick says.

Jason scowls. "You just wait 'til I come up with some awful nickname for you. Just _wait_."

"I'll help," Rowan stage-whispers. Evidently he's still not over Dick leaving a terrible drawing of Johnny Storm in his locker, complete with a "Flame on!" speech bubble.

"Awesome." Jason looks at his cocoa, then at Rowan, before holding it out. "I'm sharing with the nice brother."

They eat their snacks together; Dick trades a cookie for a sip of cocoa, and by the time they're finished, Jason seems to be in a better headspace.

"One more hour," Britta says as they tidy up. "Then we need to reconvene at the Cave for debrief."

"The Commissioner said something," Rowan guesses instantly. "Something big."

Britta nods. "Something we need to look into, but it can wait an hour."

"Okay," Dick says, nodding. Dick and Rowan have been out with her for long enough to know that when she says something needs to wait, she's not going to budge on it. Jason looks like he's ready to burst with questions, but Britta sees Dick shake his head when Jason opens his mouth. "Later, little wing."

Nightwing and Flamebird swing off the roof in perfect synchronization, and Jason snorts. "Still showboats."

"The day they fail to be showboats is the day I start worrying about them," Britta says.

Jason's domino moves with the force of his eyeroll. "If you say so," he says with all the doubtful scorn a fourteen-year-old can muster. "Now, do we have more butts to kick tonight, or are we done?"

"There are always more butts to kick," Britta says solemnly. Jason always seems to be more comfortable on his home turf, so... "Crime Alley, here we come."

"Hell yeah!" Jason fistpumps and runs to the edge of the roof. "Last one there's a turkey."

"Hey!" Britta calls as Jason leaps off the roof. "Cheater!"

She hears Jason's laughter over the comm and smiles as she chases after him. However he reacts later to what she has to tell him, at least they have moments like this.


	3. Chapter 3

Britta knows it's fair to say she's had a shitty year so far. She tries not to dwell on it, because if she lets herself get bogged down in thoughts of her missing baby and missing husband, she'll lose it. She doesn't want to focus on the way the boys had taken the news of Fields' death, either, because their mix of confusion and hope mirrors her own feelings too well for her to be able to help them with what they're feeling. 

Still, though, she can't always get away from the thoughts. Especially when she wakes up in the middle of the night and her bed is too empty, her room is too quiet. Sometimes she can put herself back to sleep, but after staring at the ceiling for half an hour, Britta figures that tonight isn't one of those nights. So she puts on her robe and heads downstairs to make chamomile tea. Chances are it won't actually help her wind down all that much, but at least it's something to do.

She pauses at the bottom of the stairs; there's already light spilling from the kitchen. There's no way that Alfred is up yet, so Britta walks cautiously towards the door and peeks in.

Rowan turns his head, spoon still hanging from his mouth, and tries to tuck the tub of ice cream behind him.

Britta smiles tiredly and walks in. "Hey, kiddo. Rough night?"

He nods and slumps back in his seat. Britta sits down next to him, and Rowan tips his chair back so he can reach and grab her a spoon, too.

"Guess I just got used to not sleeping alone over the summer," he says flatly, and then grimaces. "I mean, um-"

"It's okay, sweetie," she says, patting his hand and digging into the ice cream. Rowan is the only one of her kids whose ice cream choices Britta wouldn't question, so she figures she's safe. "Just because I'm having issues doesn't mean you're not allowed to have them too. You must miss him like crazy."

Rowan steals back the ice cream and stabs it with his spoon. "I'm trying to get used to it."

Britta sticks her spoon into her mouth mostly to keep herself from saying anything trite, like _it gets easier_. She's the one sitting next to Rowan with the second spoon, after all. He's not gonna buy it.

"Now that he's quit the Titans, I don't even know when I'll see him again," Rowan continues. "I mean, I get that he wants a clean break, but it sucks."

"You're allowed to miss him," she says. "He's your boyfriend."

He snorts. "Not anymore. He made that pretty clear when he left."

Brita pauses with the spoon halfway to her mouth. "He broke up with you?"

Rowan nods and curls in on himself.

"Oh, honey," she sighs, putting her spoon back in the container and putting an arm around Rowan's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Rowan leans into her. "I should've seen it coming. I'm just a high school kid, right?"

"Is that what he said?" Britta knows that she doesn't have to get angry on her son's behalf, but she can't help the flare of anger. "You're not just some kid, Rowan. You're so much more than that, and if Roy can't see that, then he's the one losing out."

Rowan sighs and puts his head down on the table. "It's not like that."

Britta hesitates, torn between wanting the details so she can understand and not wanting to pry. "Okay," she says after a moment. "What's it like, then?"

"Everything's changing. And I knew he was going to leave, but it didn't sink in until he was gone."

"Yeah," Britta says, waiting for him to go on.

"I'm really sorry, Mom."

She blinks. "For what?"

"For everything. Damian. Harvey. I should've been here, I should've done more..."

"No, Rowan, no," Britta says, blinking so she doesn't start crying. She rubs at his back when he starts shuddering, just like she had when he and Dick had first come to the Manor, waking up after nightmares but not wanting to cry. "None of that is your fault. You did everything that you could've done."

"I wasted so much time," Rowan protests. "All that time in Star City I could've been here, looking for Damian, because it didn't even matter. Roy was never going to stay."

"Do you regret dating him?"

"I feel like a dumbass."

"But do you regret it?" Britta repeats.

Rowan grumbles in frustration, covering his face with his hands. "Dick's supposed to be the drama queen."

Britta smiles. "He doesn't have a monopoly on feelings, Rowan. Also, if this was Dick? He'd be crying on the fainting couch."

"I just - nothing goes the way it's supposed to go. Mom and Dad died, Damian vanished, and who the fuck knows what's up with Harvey." Rowan blows out a sigh. "Why is _this_ the one thing where I'm living the teen cliche?"

"Because that's the reaction you're having," Britta replies. "Things that you're emotionally invested in affect you, and not always in ways you'd expect."

"It's stupid. And frustrating. I mean, it's not like I was a vir... uh." Rowan lifts his head and jams a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Britta takes an even breath and decides that now really isn't the time to deal with that piece of news. "Either way, he was your first really serious relationship. It'll take time, but you will feel better eventually. I promise."

"Yay." Rowan makes jazz hands, and Britta takes the opportunity to steal another bite.

"Eat more ice cream," Britta suggests.

They eat for a little while before Rowan puts his spoon down again. "I hate to just keep harping on it, but - I mean, it has to suck for you too, right? Seeing Bruce with Selina, and now Dinah and Babs..."

"Yeah," Britta agrees, "but other people can't put their lives on hold just because I'm going through a rough patch. I wouldn't want Bruce or Babs to do that, and I wouldn't want you boys to do it either."

"I don't want them to be miserable," Rowan mutters. "I just want them to be happy somewhere else for a little while."

"Well if you ever want to share the misery, you know where I am." Britta squeezes him tight and then adds, "I might even deign to share the good chocolate."

Rowan smiles a little. "Man, I must really look awful if you're offering the good chocolate."

Britta elbows him. "I said I _might_ , if I'm feeling generous."

"I'll ask Dick for tips on turning up the melodrama, then."

Britta shakes her head in mock-sadness. "Where did I go wrong with you boys?" Then she steals the ice cream.

"Hey!" Rowan yelps. "I had it first!"

"You were going to let it melt!" Britta nudges him again and he almost falls off his seat. "Besides, your new alter ego is incompatible with frozen things."

"I have taken off the flaming gloves," Rowan says seriously. "I'm cool now. Cold." He grins and starts singing. " _I'm as cold as ice…_ "

Dick appears in the doorway as if he's been summoned. " _Willing to sacrifice our love_ ," he chimes in.

"I'm going to leave and take the ice cream with me if you two keep it up," Britta warns, hugging the container closer to herself. "And if you wake up Alfred, you're on your own."

" _You never take advice,_ " Dick whisper-sings, sitting next to Rowan. "Like when I told you to go to bed. This is not bed, Ro."

"My bed sucks, D."

"I'll tuck you in if I have to, little brother."

Rowan sticks out his tongue. "Seven minutes doesn't make you the boss of me."

Dick ruffles Rowan's hair. "Wanna make a pillow fort?" he sing-songs, ducking when Rowan reaches out to cuff him.

"You two are so lucky it's not a school night," Britta grumbles.

"Yup," Dick says, standing and grabbing Rowan's hand. He tugs until Rowan stands up, grumbling under his breath about pushy brothers. "We're gonna go to sleep now, so someone's not crabby in the morning. Night, B."

Britta waits a minute to make sure they're really gone, and steals one last scoop of ice cream. It's not like she won't burn through it on patrol. She's not really sure if she feels better when she puts it back in the freezer and heads up the stairs, but she does feel tired, and that's good enough.

-0-

It's not his fault by any means, but Britta's getting really sick of seeing Jim Gordon on her front doorstep.

"Hi, Jim," she says tiredly, holding the door open. "What's the news this time?"

He smiles tightly. "I'd rather discuss it where I know there's no chance of anyone listening in. Can I come inside?"

Britta steps aside and shakes her head. "I've got to tell you, that's not a reassuring phrase."

"I wish I had something reassuring to tell you," he replies with a sigh. "Unfortunately, when it rains, it pours, or so it seems."

She forces a laugh. "Honestly, I'm not sure if the black humor is more intimidating or less. Come in."

She leads him to the living room, sits on the edge of the couch, and crosses her legs. "So, you're not here to talk about the weather."

Gordon shakes his head. "I've got some news about Harvey."

Britta inhales sharply, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself. "Is he alright?"

"I don't really know how to answer that," Gordon says after a moment. He takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. "In my personal and professional opinion, Britta, he's lost it. He's calling himself Two-Face now, running around with guns, and… he killed someone. Last night."

"Oh god. Can I ask who? Have you notified the family yet?"

Gordon puts his glasses back on and looks at her. "Carmine Falcone."

"What?" She shakes her head, not sure she heard him right. "How? Why?"

"I can't really discuss that with you," he says, probably as gently as he can manage. "I wanted to be the one to tell you, but I still can't give you details. And frankly, I'm pretty sure you don't want them."

Britta shudders. If Gordon's this certain this early, it means there's probably a video record. She's going to have to steel herself to tap into GCPD's server and watch it.

"I know it's not what you wanted to hear," Gordon says gently. "But frankly, that wasn't my only reason for coming to see you."

"I don't think I can handle more bad news right now, Jim," Britta says hollowly.

"I understand. But with the school semester kicking off soon, I think it's time you considered filing a restraining order."

Britta inhales sharply. "You think Harvey's going to hurt the kids?"

"I think they're great kids, and if he showed up to pick them up from school they'd hear him out. And the last thing any of them need is to be associated with his current activities."

She has to close her eyes for a minute, because she can see it happening. The fact that all three of the boys are highly trained means nothing when it comes to Harvey. Even now, he's still family. And Dick, Rowan, and Jason have shaped their lives around helping people. She wants Harvey to get help, but honestly, she doesn't want him home right now. If he's done half of the things she suspects he's been behind lately, she wants him to be somewhere that he can be safe from himself and not a danger to others. She opens her eyes and nods. "You're right. I'll get my lawyer on it."

"I brought some of the paperwork you'll need," Gordon says, pulling a few papers from an inside pocket of his jacket. "You'll have to get everything signed and notarized and submitted through the courts, but part of the process is getting police records." He sets them on the coffee table.

"Great. Thank you."

"I'm sorry," he says gently. "I can't imagine what you're going through, and I know thinking about this doesn't help." He sighs. "I thought maybe being proactive about it now might save you more heartache in the future, that's all."

Britta nods stiffly. "You're right. I just... sometimes it feels like it'll never end."

"We're still looking," Gordon promises. "For Harvey and for Damian. Please don't think that we'll let it go."

"I know," Britta says, annoyed at how shaky her voice sounds.

"Okay," Gordon says, nodding. "I wish I had some positive news for you. Hopefully something good will turn up soon."

She stands up to see him out, but her legs are wobbly, so Gordon just hugs her and tells her to take it easy. She does her best not to laugh, mostly because she knows it'll sound hysterical at this point.

Once she hears the front door click shut, she pulls out her cell phone. It doesn't take long to get in touch with her lawyer, who is extremely sympathetic when Britta explains what she wants. Britta's got the sneaking suspicion that she was trying to figure out how to broach the subject with Britta herself, because she says she'll have everything in place before the week is up. Call her crazy, but Britta doesn't actually find it comforting that everyone else she knows seems to think she should just give up on her husband and has been waiting for her to catch up. With the news about Falcone, though, Britta knows that Harvey's crossed a lot of lines. At least this way it'll be harder for him to get to the kids.

She takes a deep breath, promises herself a crying jag in the shower later tonight once the kids are in bed, and heads down to the Cave.

-0-

Life doesn't stop just because Harvey's on a rampage. Britta almost wishes it would; that way she could concentrate on one thing at a time, and maybe figure out how to get something accomplished. As it stands, though, the only thing she manages to get done is paying for the boys' uniforms and taking them shopping for school supplies.

Whatever enthusiasm Jason had at the start of the summer for starting high school is well and truly gone now. He's quiet during his uniform fitting, and he doesn't ooh and ahh over all of the notebooks and pens like he had last year. Belatedly, she realizes that none of the kids he went to middle school with made any attempt to contact him over the summer. He's not just starting high school, then; he's starting over, and he'll have to try to make an entirely new set of friends. She really hopes that the kids in his class don't give him a hard time about Harvey. Jason's got enough on his plate without having to deal with… well, high schoolers. At the very least he'll have Dick and Rowan to watch his back between classes.

Britta's worries about normal teenager problems get tabled when she cracks the GCPD server and finds the footage of Harvey and Carmine Falcone. She spends six weeks agonizing over it. There's no doubt that it's him; he accuses Falcone of being behind the attack that disfigured him, and starts ranting about how he'd let Falcone die quickly if he gave up the location where he was hiding Damian. Falcone says nothing, and he dies screaming.

She locks the footage up tighter than she's ever done to anything before and specifically tells the boys not to look at it. She comes across Rowan throwing up in the Cave's locker room a few days later, the video still playing in the background, and she mutes it before sitting beside Rowan and trying not to cry with him.

They're curled up tight together when the comm system comes to life with a burst of static, and they both hear a patrolman request additional units and an ambulance at Carla Viti's address. Rowan shudders against her. "You don't think…"

"I want you to stay home tonight."

Rowan shudders again, but he nods. "I'll make sure Dick and Jay stay home, too."

Jason puts up a token protest, but he relents when he sees the gray tint to Rowan's face. Dick doesn't say a word; he just goes to Rowan's side and puts an arm around his waist, half-hugging and half-supporting.

Britta hugs each of them before heading to the changing room and getting ready to go out. She thinks over her plan as she gets dressed. Holiday took out a lot of the small-timers from Carmine's organization. Chances are, Harvey will keep aiming for the top. Chances are good that he'll keep hitting people who are directly related to Carmine Falcone; the high-level enforcers are probably safe until Harvey runs out of blood relatives. Johnny Viti is dead and Alberto Falcone is safely locked away for his murder. If Carla Viti's already been hit, then chances are she's dead by now too. That leaves two options: Mario, Carmine's half-brother who's been angling to take over, or the current heir apparent: Sofia.

If Harvey is going for information, he'll go for Sofia; Mario's been out of the picture for most of this, so he won't have any details Harvey might be looking for. If he's just trying to take the organization out… he'll probably still head for Sofia.

Britta takes a minute to steady her breathing and clear her mind. When she leaves this room tonight she's leaving behind Harvey's wife; there's no room for sentimentality in what needs to be done. She has to be 100% Batman for the next several hours. If she's going to save Sofia's life, and possibly get Harvey into treatment, she's going to need to pretend she doesn't have any emotional investment in what she's about to do. No distractions, no agenda except neutralizing a threat. She takes a deep breath and walks out of the locker room, heading for the Batmoblie.

The drive across town feels like it takes forever. It doesn't help that Batman has no idea how long she theoretically has to get there; Harvey might not be heading there tonight, or Sofia might already be bleeding out. There's just no way to tell.

She parks the car a block away, activates the defenses, and climbs a fire escape to the rooftop. It's a matter of a few minutes to get to Sofia's building, and what she sees when she gets there makes Batman freeze for a moment. The main window is covered with spiderweb cracks, and Batman barely has time to anchor herself and start swinging down before Sofia Falcone falls through.

Sofia is swearing louder than she's screaming as Batman catches her, but at least she has the good sense to lock her arms over Batman's shoulders as she yells back towards Harvey. "You're a dead man! Count your days, Dent!"

Batman settles them onto the next rooftop and glances at Sofia, who appears to be uninjured. "Ms. Falcone. Are you hurt?"

Sofia laughs in her face. "I look like a shrinking violet to you?"

"No," Batman replies, forcing herself to sound steadier than she's feeling. "You do look like someone who was just tossed through a window, though. I'll figure out where Dent is headed, but I need to know if I should call an ambulance for you."

"I'll tell you what I told that nutcase," Sofia snarls. "We didn't have nothing to do with his kid, or that weasel Fields."

"Fields?" Batman asks, instantly on guard. "What did Dent say about Fields?"

"Someone iced him, but it wasn't us." Sofia snorts, and brushes glass out of her hair. "If we'd had the DA's office in our pocket my brother'd be on the street, and I'd have my hands around that traitor's throat."

"But you know whose mole he was," Batman guesses. "Someone else in town. You gave Dent another target."

"I gave Maroni a chance to join me - to make up for the years I lost covering for him. He declined," Sofia says dryly. "Don't take a genius to figure out he was counting on taking over my territory without having to give me a piece."

"Sal Maroni," Batman repeats, readying her grapple gun. "Last chance to have me call you an ambulance, Sofia."

"Save it, Bats. With any luck those two scumbags'll take each other out."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Batman says, shooting off her grapple and swinging back towards the Batmobile.

It's about ten miles to Sal Maroni's place, and at this time of day the only traffic is heading for the brothels of Crime Alley - no-one on the street will want to get in the Batmobile's way. Batman pours on the speed and prays that whatever mode of transportation Harvey's using isn't as fast as her own.

There's a car parked across the end of Maroni's driveway. It's got a weird paint job, half brown and half blue, but Batman runs past it without looking too closely once she hears the sound of fighting from inside the house. She almost trips over the body of Luigi Maroni. He's been shot through the throat, and judging by the pool of blood he's long gone. Retirement from the mob clearly didn't save him when he got in Harvey's way.

There's a shout from the next room, so Batman keeps moving. When she rounds the corner, it takes her a moment to make sense of what she's seeing. Sal's bleeding heavily, but it doesn't stop him from landing punches wherever he can. Harvey has a lot of blood on him, as well, but most of it looks like spatter, like blowback. Batman forces herself not to think of Luigi's body or the call to Carla Viti's house. "Dent!"

They both ignore her.

"That's enough," Batman growls. She takes a step forward, intending to break them up, but before she can get to them Harvey pulls a gun.

"You think you've got me?" Maroni spits, and before Harvey can move he headbutts him in the face. "You killed my father. _Vaffanculo_ ," Maroni curses as he tackles Harvey, knocking him to the side.

"You took _everything_ from me," Harvey hisses, and Batman can see Maroni realize that Harvey still has the gun. He raises it, quicker than Batman's seen him move since the attack, and shoots Maroni in the chest at point-blank range.

Maroni takes a horrible, sucking breath. Harvey aims again, but Batman springs into action, knocking him down and kicking the gun across the room. She forces herself to zip-strip his hands behind his back and then turns to Maroni.

"Let him die!" Harvey roars.

Batman does her best to ignore him. It's easier than she thought it would be; Maroni's losing blood quickly, and it takes all of her concentration to get his shirt open and press the compression bandage against his chest. She hits an alarm in her belt to summon the GCPD and another for an ambulance, but she'll be really surprised if Maroni even makes it to the hospital. Harvey tries his best to inch his way across the floor and try to kick Maroni in the ribs.

Batman puts herself between Harvey and Maroni, but when Harvey just tries to move around her, she forces herself to treat him like any other perp: she kicks him hard enough in the shin to fracture. He turns on her with wild eyes, cursing at Batman for betraying him. She doesn't respond. She can't; she has no idea what will come out of her mouth if she tries to say something to him right now.

Backup arrives in five minutes; by that point, Maroni's been dead for two.

Britta does something she's never done before in the Batsuit: she walks out the front door. Her gloves are drenched in blood, and she's not sure she'd be able to grip the grapple line. Some of the police on scene gawk, but she catches Bullock's eye over the crowd starting to swell around the house. He nods at her, face solemn, and she feels an exhausted sort of relief. At least someone here knows that she's going through a lot right now, even if Bullock has no idea exactly how much Britta's hurting.

No-one stops her from stepping into the shadows and climbing over the mansion's outer wall. No-one follows her to the Batmobile, and no-one tries to follow her back to the Cave.

She strips off quickly and grabs a shower; she's still toweling her hair dry when Alfred transfers a call down to the Cave. She already knows it's going to be Gordon, and she knows exactly what he's about to tell her, but she still dreads taking the call. "Hello?"

"Harvey's lawyer is on the way to the station," Gordon says without preamble. "It's - he's bad, Britta."

"How bad is bad?" she asks, closing her eyes and bracing herself. "Can I come down there?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't feel comfortable letting you in a room with him."

She sucks in a breath. She'd known it wasn't good, of course; she'd watched him murder someone tonight, and knows without a doubt that he'd killed at least two other people. Knowing that Gordon thinks he's that unstable is still somehow shocking.

Gordon sighs, and then says the last thing she expects. "You should contact his doctor."

"Which one?" Britta asks, laughing a little hysterically.

"I can't speak for the DA's office, but in my professional opinion Harvey's a prime candidate for Arkham," Gordon says.

"Arkham," Britta repeats, stunned. "God, Jim. It's really that bad?"

"Bullock called me to fill me in, and I could hear Dent in the background."

"What can you tell me?" she asks, sitting at the computer and pulling up a blank document. "I'll call his psychiatrist, but any details you can give me will help."

"I'm sorry," Gordon says. "I really wish I could, but I can't be involved any further. I can't prejudice his case."

"I understand," Britta says helplessly. "I just… ask him if he wants to see me? Maybe I can help."

"My best advice is to let the lawyer and the doctors handle tonight. Take care of your boys; tomorrow's going to be rough, once this hits the press."

"Right," Britta says, squeezing her eyes shut. "Thanks for the call, Jim." She hangs up and pulls on some sweats. Alfred's waiting for her at the top of the stairs with a cup of cocoa.

"Miss Britta," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder. There's more sympathy in his eyes than she can remember seeing since her parents died.

Britta doesn't trust her voice yet, so she takes a deep breath and holds it. There's a sound like a herd of giraffes clomping down the stairs, and then her boys are all running towards her. Rowan hits her first, throwing his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly, and in a few seconds, Dick and Jason have joined him.

"You're home," Rowan says into her shoulder, voice muffled.

"I am," she replies, swallowing tightly. "I… found Harvey tonight. He's with the GCPD now." She catches Alfred's eye over the top of Dick's head. "Can you turn off the house phone, please?"

Alfred nods. "Of course. I'll be sure to check the locks on the gates as well."

"Thank you," she says, hoping he knows exactly how much she appreciates his support. She turns to the boys. "We all need to talk about what happened, and what happens from here."

Jason nods and steps out of the hug, and she pretends not to notice him swiping angrily at his eyes. Rowan and Dick hang on for a little while longer, but soon they're heading upstairs for what Britta is sure will be a long, draining conversation. She makes a mental note to remove the footage of Carmine Falcone from the server once she's done talking to the boys. She's pretty sure Jason won't believe what she has to say unless he sees it for himself. For now, though, she settles onto the sofa in the study and watches as the boys tangle themselves up together on the loveseat. This is going to be rough.

-0-

The month between Harvey's arrest and him being committed to Arkham is complete hell. The boys have to have some time off school, because it's too difficult to get through the throng of paparazzi. Of course, since they're home, they want to accompany her to the jail every time she goes to visit Harvey, and while DIck and Rowan eventually accept that she's just not going to let them go, she has the feeling Jason will be harboring resentment over it for a while. She tries to channel it into his training, but when he's angry his punches go wild and he ends up being hit in the face more than once by the speed ball. He's quieter on the street, and she can tell that he's throwing himself into patrol as a coping mechanism, but he always stops before he goes too far, so she doesn't say anything.

Rowan and Dick have more or less given up sleeping in separate rooms, and they've established a permanent blanket fort in one of the guest rooms with a double bed. They're keeping each other fairly even, so Britta leaves them to it. She doesn't have to ask them to take Jason along the next time they have a Titans mission; things are rocky enough they can tell he needs a break without anything more than an exchange of glances. Jason comes back with a fresh hickey and a mumbled apology.

"Okay, I've let it slide long enough," Britta says, raising an eyebrow. "Who's the mystery girlfriend? Or boyfriend?"

Jason goes bright red. "Nobody!"

"Don't make me ask Dick," she says. "You know he'll tell me way more than just who it is."

Jason grimaces. "No-one I want to bring home to meet the family. It's not like that."

"I'm not asking you to bring them home, and I'm not asking so I can track them down and Batman at him or her," Britta says. "I just want to make sure you're not dating someone like, say, Deathstroke."

"Ew!" Jason cries. "He's _old_! And evil!"

Britta snorts. "Glad to see you have your priorities in order. Oh, wait."

"It's Beast Boy," Jason says, clearly exasperated. "And we're not, like, super serious about it. Not like Dick and…"

"Donna," Britta supplies. "That one I knew."

Jason stares at her for a minute. "Donna. Right."

"I want you to be happy, Jay," Britta says, smiling. "That's it, I promise. And if Beast Boy makes you happy, then so be it."

"He's a dork," Jason retorts, rolling his eyes. "But he's okay."

"Okay," Britta repeats. "I'm glad you had a good weekend away."

"Thanks. And I really am sorry for being a pain in the ass."

"Thanks," Britta replies. "You're allowed to react to stuff, though. I'm sorry this year has been so rough."

"Yeah, 'cause you totally did it on purpose." Jason shakes his head sadly. "You monster."

"I swear that I'll do better in the future," Britta says solemnly.

Jason bites his lip, clearly thinking something over, and then he asks in a small voice, "How's he doing?"

Britta sighs. "Not great," she admits. "The doctors think that everything that happened this year pushed him towards something he was already heading for, but with one thing after another and another, it sped the process up and didn't give us a chance to help him head it off."

"Well that sucks. I guess..." Jason trails off and scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the floor. "Do they know yet if he'll be home for Christmas?"

"Oh, honey," Britta says, sighing and pulling him into a hug. "They're not sure of anything right now, but I know they're all working their hardest." She doesn't know how to tell him that Harvey might not ever be out - not after executing three people. It might not be the best solution, but for now she'll just let him hope. God knows he's already had enough taken away from him in his short life, between Willis' imprisonment and death, and Catherine's illness and probable OD. Losing another parent… she can't even imagine it. Not that it's easy for Dick and Rowan either, but at least they have each other.

"I just miss him," Jason mumbles against her chest. "And Damian. Why does stuff keep happening to us?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's something to do with living in a city that prides itself on being Gothic," Britta says, only half-joking.

"We should knock everything down and start over," Jason suggests. "Wayne Enterprises can build all the new stuff. You guys do research in all the cutting-edge safety building materials and whatever, right?"

"Sounds like a plan. Any chance you want to be my architect?"

Jason grins and sticks his chest out. "I'll design the best buildings ever. Think we can get the investors to sign off on a rainbow color scheme?"

Britta squeezes him tight. "When you put your mind to something, Jay? Anything's possible."

"Awesome," Jason says, pulling back and grinning. "So we just have to wait for me to finish school, go to college, and go to engineering school. That should only take a few months, so you should start knocking shit down now."

Britta salutes him. "I'll get right on it."

"Speaking of things we should be planning, what are we doing for Thanksgiving?" Jason asks. "And no, I don't want to invite Gar down. He'd probably change into a dog and stick his face in a pie or something."

Britta bites her tongue so she won't make a joke about Gar sticking his face in things. "I think Bruce and Selina are coming over," she says instead. "We'll get up and watch the parade, and Alfred will have the meal ready mid-afternoon. Then I'm thinking post-turkey nap while Bruce yells at the football games."

"Happy turkey day!" Jason crows.

"That's the hope, yeah," Britta says, smiling. "Any special pie requests? Alfred will make a bunch if we all want something different."

"It's like you don't even know me," Jason says with a sniff. "I want _all_ the pie."

"If you say that to Alfred, he'll just make apple," Britta warns. "And pumpkin, because it's tradition. If you want anything that's not apple or pumpkin, tell him now."

"That would be a tragedy." Jason turns on his heel and races for the kitchen.

Britts smiles as he skids around the corner. They've had enough tragedies this year. A little pie might go a long way.

-0-

It's big news in Gotham when one of the business world's power couples is kidnapped while on vacation the week after Thanksgiving; it's even bigger news when Janet Drake dies in the rescue attempt, and Jack Drake ends up in a coma.

It's splashed all over the front page of every single paper, with special interest from the tabloids and endless attempts to get pictures of their daughter, Tamora. Britta has known the Drakes casually for the better part of a decade; Janet was an incredibly dedicated businesswoman, and Jack had always seemed decent, if a little distant. She makes a note in her PDA to check the date of Janet's funeral, and sets the paper aside with a sigh.

A few minutes later, Jason wanders in and sits down for breakfast. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and rubs his eyes. "Morning."

"Hi sweetie."

"What's new?"

Britta grimaces. "Nothing good."

Jason's eyes immediately drop to the newspaper. "What are we getting into?" he asks, reaching for it.

"It's a local couple who were attacked overseas." Britta drops her hand over his. "There's nothing we can do about this one."

"That sucks," he says, withdrawing his hand and going back to his cereal. "Did you know them?"

"Only a little. Janet and Jack Drake, of Drake Industries."

Jason nods. "I'm sorry," he says. "Are you going to the funeral?"

Britta nods back. "Jack's in the hospital; I'm not sure yet when Janet's funeral is taking place, but I'd like to pay my respects to their daughter."

"Ouch," Jason says, his face screwing up in sympathy. He eats for a moment before looking back to Britta. "I want to go, too."

Huh. That's not the reaction she was expecting. "Okay. But what if it ends up being held during school hours?"

"I still want to go," he says, putting his spoon down and turning to face her. He's got his serious business face on. "I mean, unless their kid is, like, really little and doesn't get what's going on, it might help her to talk to someone who lost their mom."

Britta has no idea what to say to that. He's right; people who haven't been through a loss like that are singularly useless. They don't understand, and many of them don't really want to, so being young and grieving can be intensely isolating. She wonders sometimes if that's why Bruce has always pushed himself to be the life of the party: so he won't be alone.

"I think she's just a little younger than you," Britta says instead of voicing that. "I'll see when the service is being held, and we can figure it out from there."

Jason nods and tucks into his breakfast.

Dick and Rowan come in not long after that; Britta still finds it amazing watching them eat sometimes, because the amount of food-sharing and bite-stealing that goes on between them is nothing less than a masterpiece. The choreography of how they move around each other is more complicated than the national ballet. The best part of it is that they don't seem to be doing it consciously; they hold conversations with Jason and Britta while they play food swap. If they were any other pair of teenagers, she'd assume they were playing footsie under the table.

Britta shakes her head to clear away that unwanted thought, and gets up to pour herself more coffee.

Before long, Alfred rounds the boys off to take them to school; Britta heads upstairs to get ready for a day at the office. She's slowly been increasing her hours again, now that things are settling into the new normal.

With Harvey in custody and the two major crime families in tatters, the city's underworld is in flux. That makes for largely-quiet patrol nights, with occasional bursts of violence as the remaining gangs jostle for position, but between Batman, her three sidekicks, Catwoman, and Calico, things calm down pretty quickly. Add in Black Canary and Huntress, as well as GCPD's SWAT teams, and the city hasn't been this stable in years. She has mixed feelings about it, honestly; on the one hand, Gotham is peaceful and she had a big hand in that, but on the other hand, Harvey - or his alter-ego, which Britta refuses to acknowledge by name - is responsible for it too, and not in any sort of good way. 

She hasn't seen him since she signed the papers to have him committed to Arkham. The doctors tell her it's a good thing, giving him space so he can recover without feeling like his family is watching his every move, but she has no idea if that's true or not. But then, even if she had any idea what to say to him right now, he probably wouldn't want to hear it. Every single part of the situation is a mess, so she's doing her best to think things all the way through before she does anything.

Part of that means taking back the reins of her company, so that Bruce can go back to school like he planned. He's been her eyes and ears at Wayne Enterprises for months now: her representative on the Board, playing ignorant when the other members try to pull power moves, and stalling them so he can "consult" with her and Lucius. He's grown up a lot in the past year, but Britta needs WE back just as much as Bruce needs his own life.

She dresses in power suits these days, again, because she's been gone long enough that some of the old cronies need reminding: she is Britta Wayne. Her name is on the building and the letterheads, her stamp is all over their corporate policy, and she signs the goddamn checks. A few of the worst of them are still treating her like she's Bruce's replacement, instead of the other way around, but for the most part, she's got them back in hand. She has a file on her laptop with names of men who might be seeking early retirement sometime soon - men who apparently thought they wouldn't have to deal with her anymore once Damian was born. She honestly can't wait to get on that particular warpath, but she's biding her time. It'll go over a lot more smoothly if she's back full-time before she makes a lot of big changes.

She smoothes down her hair one last time and tucks her makeup into her handbag; she can't afford to look anything less than perfect, anymore, with the weight of Harvey's crimes hanging over her.

By the time she's collected herself, Alfred is back from his school run. He gives her a smile as she walks down the stairs. "Ready to take the business world by storm again, I see."

Britta smiles back. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's be on our way," Alfred says.

"What would I do without you, Alfred?"

"Drive yourself, I'd imagine," Alfred replies. "Although you would have to hire someone else to cook for you. You have many talents, Miss Britta, but you never did get the hang of the kitchen."

Britta snorts. "Don't make laugh; I'll end up having to re-do my makeup."

"Heaven forbid," Alfred says dryly. "I'll stick to reporting the stocks to you, then."

She grins, and immediately has to check she doesn't have lipstick on her teeth.

The drive to work goes by quickly; Britta remembers to check the date for Janet Drake's funeral on the way. It's on Sunday, so Jason won't have to miss school to go. The funeral home is probably going to be packed, so she sets a reminder to head out early that day, and tries to set her mind on WE, not on Gotham's broken families.

-0-

Sunday is grey and cold. It's not snowing, which is pretty much the only thing the day has going for it. Jason bundles up in so many layers he has trouble squeezing through the car door. He's dressed nicely underneath it, though it's impossible to tell from anything other than his shiny shoes. Britta just shakes her head, sticks a comb in her pocket, and climbs in next to him.

"This isn't weird, right?" Jason asks her anxiously as they pull out of the driveway. "I mean, it's not like I know Tamora. We've never even met. What if she's got a bunch of friends there, and I'm just some awkward dude in the corner?"

"Then at least I'll be in the corner with you. It's not like Janet and I were friends, either."

"Okay," Jason mutters, slumping back against the seat as far as he can go. It's not far. "Okay, this isn't weird."

He squishes down his overcoat and manages to get his seat belt clicked into place. He looks like a puffy marshmallow, not that Britta's going to tell him that.

When they pull up at the funeral home, the parking lot is packed. Britta counts herself lucky that she has Alfred, and all she has to do is help Jason untangle himself. There's a coat rack just inside the building, and Britta's amazed to see how quickly Jason can transform from a pile of coats into a real boy. He smiles at her gratefully when she hands him the comb, racing off to the bathroom to smooth down his wild hair. By the time Britta hangs up her own coat and freshens up, Jason is waiting for her in the hallway.

They take a seat in the back row. Jason presses as close as he can without actually climbing into her lap. The service is nice, as services go; the Drakes apparently don't have any close family, so the eulogy is given by one of the senior employees at Drake Industries. 

Tamora Drake sits in the front row, still and silent. It's eerie to see in someone so young. Britta glances around at the other funeral-goers, but doesn't see the horde of friends that Jason had been worried about. In fact, he seems to be the only person remotely close to Tamora's age in the building.

The rabbi concludes the service, and Britta breathes through a wave of memories. Jason clears his throat awkwardly next to her, and Britta looks over to find him fidgeting. "D'you think I should go talk to her?"

Britta takes his hand. "I think she has some things to do first." She tries to remember her grandmother's funeral, the rituals and stages and the right words in Hebrew, but it's been a lifetime. She and Jason sit for a little while longer as the line winds its way through the room.

"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "I'm going in."

"Don't treat it like a mission," Britta warns as he stands up. "Be yourself. You'll have a better chance of connecting with her." Letting him go once more into the breach isn't easy, but having his mother hovering over his shoulder would be less than helpful.

"Save me some coffee cake," Jason says flashing her a smile as he walks towards the front of the room.

Jason's still waiting in line when somebody take a seat next to Britta. She looks over and vaguely recognizes one of the bigwigs from DI.

"It's a hell of a thing," he says, shaking his head and frowning cartoonishly. Britta wouldn't be surprised if he held a board meeting the day they heard about Janet.

"It is," she agrees. "Any news on Mr. Drake? I hope he's on the mend." Jack Drake may be the less business-minded of the Drakes, but Britta doesn't like the look in this guy's eyes.

"The family hasn't released any details," he replies, eyes raking over Tamora Drake like she's personally offended him.

"Understandable," Britta says. She's been in her own share of family crises over the past year, but she has to wonder who exactly in the "family" is making the decisions. There's no way it's Tamora. She barely looks old enough to be in double digits. Even recalling that Janet had been small doesn't help how tiny Tamora looks.

Britta makes small talk with a few other vultures as she waits for Jason to finish talking, but she can't take her eyes off the kids. They're sitting in the front row, side by side, with their heads down. Occasionally Jason will gesture something with his hands, like he needs more than just words to say whatever he's saying, and bit by bit, Britta can see some of the tension bleed out of Tamora's frame.

Jason turns around at one point, catching her eye and giving a little wave. Tamora follows his gaze and gives Britta a tight "Hi, important person I don't really give a shit about" smile. Britta wants to hug her, and tell her that no matter what anyone else says it's okay to turn off the performance sometimes. There are days you shouldn't have to smile if you don't want to. With any luck, Jason will be able to get that across to her.

"... get your card so we can have a formal discussion," the man on Britta's right says as she tunes back in.

"No."

The man blinks. "Excuse me?"

"You asked. I said no. I'm not here to discuss business."

The man's face hardens. "Just because Wayne Enterprises runs half of Gotham-"

"Excuse me," Britta says pointedly, standing up. "I'm going to go pay my respects to a child who just lost her mother."

She gets up and walks away, about ninety percent sure he just called her a bitch under his breath.

"Tamora," she says, holding out her hand. "I'm sorry we met under these circumstances. Your mother was a remarkable woman."

"It's Tim," Jason stage-whispers.

"Tim, then," Britta says, smiling a little. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Tim shakes her hand and then drops back, like she's wishing she could become part of the furniture.

Britta does a quick assessment and comes to a decision. "Jay, I'm going to talk to some people for a little while. Come find me when you and Tim are done talking, okay?"

Tim lets out a sigh of relief that she obviously thinks Britta can't hear. It's kind of adorable.

"You got it, B," Jason says. He turns back towards Tim, giving Britta the chance to slip away and leave them to it. She squares her shoulders and looks for the most friendly face she can find in the room; she'd like to get out of this without another aborted business deal. She spots an older woman at the back of the room - one of the few people who actually looks like she's been crying. As she gets closer, she hears the woman talking to some of the well-wishers, thanking them for coming and reiterating how good an employer Mrs. Drake had been.

"Hi," Britta says when the well-wisher has moved on. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," the woman says, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm Mrs. MacIlverne, the Drakes' housekeeper. I don't believe we've met."

"No, ma'am," Britta says automatically, falling back on Alfred-drilled manners. "I'm Britta Wayne."

"Oh, Ms. Wayne," Mrs. MacIlverne says, grasping Britta's hand. "I'm sorry for your losses, as well. It's been a terrible year all around." She sighs before Britta can come up with something to say, and her eyes go to the front of the room. "I'm glad Tim has found someone to talk to, though. She hasn't many friends, and I worry about her."

Jason chooses that moment to break away and make a beeline for them. Britta can't help smiling at the bounce in his step.

"Hey, Mom," he says, stopping beside her. "I gave Tim my phone number and told her she could call if she wanted to talk or hang out or something. I hope that's okay?"

"Of course. Just remember that I see your phone bill," she teases.

Jason gets two tiny spots of color high on his cheeks. " _B_."

" _J_." Britta smiles and turns. "Mrs. MacIlvane, this is my son Jason."

Jason's face brightens. "Mrs. Mac, right? That's what Tim called you."

She nods. "I'm her guardian for the time being."

Britta can't help but feel relieved at the thought. It seems like she's actually concerned about Tim and her well-being, which is a lot more than Britta can say about anyone else she's met today.

"Well, if Jason starts being a pest you know who to call," she says lightly, dragging him into a hug. The day would've been unbearably awkward without him here. Britta isn't sure she would've been able to let Tim out of her sight.

"I will do my best to not be a pest," Jason says solemnly. "I know all the warning signs. I have _brothers_." He says the last word meaningfully, as if Dick and Rowan are a fungus of some sort.

Behind him, Tim snorts. Then she claps a hand over her mouth, as if she just remembered that she's not supposed to be anything but miserable. Jason turns so he can grin over his shoulder at her, and Britta has to bite her lip so she doesn't coo over how cute they are.

"We should get out of your hair," she says instead.

"Thank you for coming," Mrs. Mac says as Tim says, "It was nice to meet you."

"If you ever need anything, Tim, just let me know." Britta raises an eyebrow and takes a chance. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve for dealing with cranky old businessmen who like to pat you on the head and tell you to go back to playing with your dolls."

Tim blinks a few times before giving Britta the kind of smile that gives her hope for the business world of tomorrow. "Thank you, Ms. Wayne."

"Bye, Tim," Jason calls over his shoulder.

"Bye, Jay," she echoes, turning to smile at him.

Jason gives Britta a little shove, and they go outside to wait for Alfred. 

"Gotta know when to make an exit," he mutters for Britta's ears only.

"Dick is a horrible influence," she replies.

Jason shrugs and grabs his coat. "That's why I went with Rowan's advice for meeting people."

"So you're telling me they're as bad as each other."

"Are you surprised?" Jason asks.

Britta thinks about it for a second; the two of them have grown closer than ever over the past year. "No. Not at all."

Jason snorts as he pulls his last scarf on. "Good."

" _You_ still surprise me sometimes," she says, ruffling his hair.

"In a good way or a bad way?" he asks suspiciously.

"In an _I'm really not ready for you to grow up yet_ kind of way."

Jason makes a face that's somewhere between "Aw, Mom," and "Please stop." Britta grins and pats his hair back down.

Alfred pulls up to the curb just as Jason starts to get a calculating look, so Britta jabs him in the ribs to distract him. Jason sticks his tongue out at her, but he climbs into the car when Alfred opens the door. "So, scale of one to Dick's fashion sense," he says as he struggles with his seatbelt again. "How hard did I crash and burn?"

"I think you did well," Britta says honestly. "I think Tim really appreciated having someone there that she could talk to."

Jason shrugs and looks out the window. "At least she doesn't have the cops asking her a million questions."

"Oh, Jay," Britta sighs, reaching out to pull him into a sideways hug. It's a little awkward, but he leans his head onto her shoulder. It's been years, and Jason still barely talks about what happened before Britta took custody of him. His therapist seems pleased with his progress, so she tries not to worry too much and make him feel like she's walking on eggshells, but it's never easy to hear him drop these hints.

"I'm just glad you found me," Jason mumbles.

"Me too," she replies, squeezing him tight.

-0-

Christmas without Harvey and Damian is rough. Britta wasn't expecting it to be simple, but between Jason withdrawing into himself when he realizes that Harvey won't be there and Dick overcompensating with enough Christmas cheer for any three people, it's not the best holiday that she's ever experienced. And it definitely isn't how she pictured spending the lead-up to her first wedding anniversary. At least Rowan's doing a little bit better. First heartbreak is never easy, but he finally seems to be on the mend.

Bruce and Selina's guest is a welcome distraction too. Stephanie Brown is a little younger than Jason, and their stories are eerily similar: dads on the wrong side of the law, moms who cope with it by using whatever they can get their hands on. The difference is that Catherine Todd had died from a heroin overdose, while Crystal Brown is in rehab for her addiction to painkillers.

For all her troubles, Stephanie is remarkably bright and happy. She exclaims over Dick's gaudy decorations, and bullies him into taking her out sledding. The two of them manage to drag Jason outside with them and Rowan wanders to the kitchen to help Alfred get the cocoa ready, which leaves the adults to talk in peace.

"Stephanie seems to be having a good holiday," Britta says. They're in the library, which gives them a great view of Stephanie pushing Dick down the hill. Jason's still holding the sled, and he and Stephanie exchange a high-five.

Selina smiles. "That kid has turned making the best of things into an art form."

"I'm glad we were able to help her out," Bruce says, leaning back into the sofa. "When Selina brought up the idea of sponsoring a kid through a shelter, I was all for it, but Steph is really a lot more fun than I was expecting."

As they watch, Steph ducks a snowball hurled by Dick. It hits Jason in the face. He splutters, snow dripping down his face, as Dick and Steph start to laugh. Jason leans down and grabs a handful of snow, hurling it in Steph's direction before diving down for more. It's not long before they're in a full-fledged three-way snowball fight. Then out of the blue Dick gets tackled and rolls down the hill again tangled up with the interloper: Rowan.

Bruce laughs. "I miss being able to move around like that."

"Old man," Selina teases, rolling her eyes. "I hate to inform you of this, hon, but you could _never_ move like that."

Bruce puffs out his chest. "Hey, when I was a teenager-" 

He cuts off abruptly when Rowan stands up, dusts himself off, and does a back bend into a handstand. Rowan starts walking towards Steph on his hands, then springs up and lands on his feet before diving and taking her down.

Bruce blinks but doesn't say a word. It's all Britta can do to not laugh outright; Selina isn't so discreet.

The day passes quickly once the kids start acting like kids. They only come inside when Alfred tells them he'll dump the cocoa if they stay out any longer. There's a four-way howl of protest, and they tumble into the kitchen. Alfred makes them all stay in the kitchen while he gets them dry things to wear. He even comes up with a change for Stephanie, even though Britta would have sworn she got rid of everything from her teen years a long time ago. That purple hoodie is a sight for sore eyes. Or an eyesore, depending on your point of view. 

Stephanie seems to love it, though. "I'm keeping this," she announces to the table at large as they sit down to eat. "I hope nobody else loves it, because it's mine now."

Dick sighs melodramatically. "Goodbye, Barney. I'll miss you."

Stephanie pets her own arm. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll give you a much better name."

Lunch is even more chaotic than usual. Alfred's method of coping with the sadder aspects of the holiday seems to have been cooking every dish he could recall Britta or Bruce ever having liked, so there's enough food to feed three times as many people as they have at the table. They do their best to tackle the feast, but Bruce and Selina still end up taking home a pile of leftovers. Stephanie is clutching her own Tupperware filled with sweet potato casserole, and had very loudly threatened to wash all of Bruce's ties in the machine if it were to mysteriously go missing from the refrigerator.

Selina writes down the address of the soup kitchen she's going to be serving at tonight, and Britta promises to meet her there once the boys wake up from the food coma. She'll bring most of the rest of the food with her. At least they'll be able to use Alfred's overabundance of cooking to make some people’s Christmases a little bit better.

After everything's cleaned up, Britta pokes her head into the den to check on the kids. Dick and Rowan are taking up far more of the sofa than is strictly necessary, tangled up with each other in their sleep. Jason, however, is nowhere in sight.

She finds him curled up in the library with his cell phone, smiling slightly at the screen.

"Did Gar text you?" Britta asks.

"What?" Jason says, dropping his phone into his lap and blinking. "Uh. No. I was just texting Tim."

"Ah." Britta pulls up a chair and sits down next to him. "How's she doing?"

"Good, I guess," he says, glancing down as his phone buzzes again. "She doesn't do Christmas, y'know? She's Jewish. She went to the movies and had Chinese food for lunch." Jason squirms in his seat, clearly itching to check his phone but reluctant to do it in front of his mother. Interesting.

"Do you want to invite her over sometime?" Britta asks, going for casual. "I'm sure she's on school break now, too. Maybe you two could hang out over here."

Jason grimaces. "Yeah, maybe."

"Or you could go to the mall," she offers.

"Do I have to bring Dick and Rowan?" Jason asks, peering up at her from under his messy fringe.

"No," Britta promises. "I think that you and Tim can probably handle a few hours at the mall on your own. As long as you keep your phone on, that is."

"Yes!" Jason pumps the air, and then twists around in an almost-perfect double take. "Should I ask Steph if she wants to come?"

Britta smiles. "If you want to, I'm sure she'd appreciate being invited along." She ruffles Jason's hair and heads out to tell Alfred the plan.

"Awesome," Jason says. He grabs his phone as Britta leaves the room, fingers flying over the screen and a wide smile on his face. It's a relief to see him come out of his shell, after the rollercoaster with Harvey. Maybe they got a little bit of a Christmas miracle after all.

-0-

It's been below freezing for four days straight, which does wonders for the crime rate. The streets are quiet, which really isn't what Britta needs right now with the big anniversary coming up. She gets a twinge of guilt at how comforting it is when Jim Gordon gets back from Chicago and lights up the Bat-signal. It doesn't take her long to get to the GCPD building. 

"Welcome back, Commissioner," she says as she steps out of the shadows.

Jim startles, holding a hand to his chest. He looks… terrible. His hair is mussed and his eyes are a little bloodshot, and he's pale, even for someone as white as he is in the middle of a New Jersey winter.

"What happened?" Britta says sharply, her voice scrambler making it come out like a growl.

"That bad, huh?" Jim says, smiling weakly. "Christmas didn't exactly go as planned. I thought I could check up on something while I was in Chicago with Barb and Junior, but Barb didn't take too kindly to it when she found out I was working."

"The Wayne case," Britta concludes. "You think Dent was onto something, going after Carla Viti and her connections?"

"It was worth a shot, since I was in the area anyway." Gordon shrugged. "Barb didn't quite see it that way."

"Sorry it ruined your holiday," Britta says. "Did the lead pan out?"

Jim shakes his head. "The only thing I accomplished was making my wife think I'm determined to piss off every mob family in the country."

Britta winces. It probably hadn't helped that it was the Viti family Jim had been looking into; they'd already kidnapped James Jr. once. "So things are rough at home, I take it."

Jim laughs, short and bitter. "Things are quiet at home."

"Ah." And to think, she'd thought that patrolling tonight would get her mind off of marital troubles. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"It tends to come with the job." He tucks his hands under his arms, bracing against the chill. "Is there anything I should know about, anything I might've missed while I was away?"

Britta wishes that she had something to tell him. She's acutely aware of how much he'd love a distraction right now. "No," she says. "Things have been quiet here."

"Damn." Jim huffs out a breath, and it hangs in the air. "I've got extra security on Victor Fries, just in case."

"Always a good plan in this kind of weather," Britta says, nodding. "It's supposed to snow towards the end of the week. Might be worth warning your people."

"I finally convinced the mayor to invest in snow tires for patrol," Jim replies.

Britta snorts. "He agreed to that? After how many years? You're a magician."

Jim laughs. "Nah, I just showed him the repair bills from the GCPD mechanic. And I might have implied that we're lucky the city hasn't been sued for causing accidents."

"Maybe so, but you're trying to tell me that he listened to reason," Britta says. She shivers a little as the wind picks up; her suit is insulated, so she stays mostly warm, but she can see how much Gordon is resisting shivering. "Can I treat you to a coffee?"

"One of these years you're going to have to let me pay for once."

"If that ever happens, assume I've been replaced by a pod person."

Gordon laughs. "The usual spot?"

Britta nods, and shoots off a grapple.

She gets to the diner and places Jim's order, choosing to ignore the way the cashier stares. She sits at a booth near the back of the diner, the one that faces the door so both she and Jim can keep an eye on the rest of the room. The waitress brings the coffee over just as Jim walks in, making a beeline for the booth.

Jim shakes his head, smiling slightly. "It's not even worth asking how you do that, is it?"

"We all have our tricks," Britta replies. And she's learned some of her more useful ones from Alfred; people are surprisingly intimidated by efficiency.

They chat for a while; most of it is about cases, random thoughts that the two of them have had. Britta can't talk about her own family, and Jim doesn't seem to want to talk about Barb, which Britta can completely understand.

It's just after midnight when she heads back home. She's more tired than her easy night chatting with Jim should account for. She gets changed and heads upstairs, trying to puzzle out what's going on in her head.

She stops short when she reaches the door of her bedroom. Jason is sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard. She's got no idea how long he's been sitting there, but it's long enough for him to have dozed off.

He blinks awake when Britta lays a quilt over him. "Sorry," he mumbles, pushing himself up. "I wanted to be here when you got home."

"It's fine. Go back to sleep, Jay." 

"Nah, I'm good." But Jason yawns so widely he almost looks like he's going to dislocate his jaw.

"Sure you are." Britta can't help smiling. "What's so important that you had to wait for me, huh?"

Jason reaches over and picks up an envelope from the side-table. "Rowan said I shouldn't," he says quietly. "But I thought…"

She opens it, slides out the card, and has to catch her breath.

"I know things are messed up, but he still loves you," Jason says in a rush. "Even if he can't say it."

It's an anniversary card, a nice one from one of the stationary stores downtown. Britta reads the poem on the cover and the message on the inside. Jason had signed his name and put the date up in the corner, just like she's done with all of his birthday and Christmas cards. "Oh, Jason. Thank you."

"Happy anniversary," Jason mumbles, bringing his knees up and hiding his face.

Britta tucks the card carefully back into its envelope and puts it on the bedstand before reaching out and drawing Jason into a hug. She hides her face in his hair for a minute as he wraps his arms around her and squeezes. "Thanks, Jay. Thank you so much."

"I know he's sick. I know... someone told me he might not ever be the same," Jason says, hugging her back tightly. "But we're not giving up yet. Right?"

"We're not," Britta promises. "We're not giving up."

Jason keeps his arms wrapped around her, and after a few minutes Britta realises he's drifted back to sleep. She smiles as she lays him down and tucks him in before going to curl up on the sofa. Maybe she can get through this after all; she's got plenty of people who she can rely on.

-0-

"So," Dick says one Sunday afternoon in late January. "We had an exciting weekend with the Titans."

"So I gathered," Britta says dryly. Rowan had come home, spent an hour with a punching bag, and gone straight to his room. And, for once, Dick hadn't followed him.

Dick grabs an apple from the tray Alfred had left in the Cave and takes a bite. "Roy's back," he says after he swallows.

Britta raises her eyebrows. "Already? What happened?"

"Nobody knows," Dick says, rubbing at the skin of the apple. If there's a blemish on an Alfred-approved fruit Britta will eat her cowl, but she lets Dick have the distraction. "He just showed up this weekend and said he was done with all of that, and asked if we had anything we could use him for."

"How did Rowan take it?"

"Nobody knows that, either," Dick replies, rubbing even harder at the apple. "After everyone said hi to Roy, he grabbed Rowan and they disappeared for, like, an hour. I don't know if they were beating the crap out of each other or… doing other stuff."

Britta sighs. "Rowan's not talking either? That's not a good sign."

"I _know_ ," Dick says plaintively. He takes a bite of his apple and scowls, but chews through it and swallows what has to be a bruised mouthful of fruit. "He wouldn't even talk to me! Not even to say if I should welcome Roy home or punch him in the nuts!"

Britta takes a step forward and ruffles his hair. "Maybe he just needs a little time. He knows we're here when he's ready."

"But I always tell him things," Dick says. "Like when me and Donna stopped our thing, I told him right away. That's how it works."

"Wait, what happened with Donna?" This is the first Britta's hearing about it.

Dick shrugs. "It was never that serious, and she met a guy at school."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Britta sighs. "When was this?"

"Um. Just after Thanksgiving, I think?" Dick huffs out a laugh. "She was running late and she ended up barreling straight into him, knocked all his grading right out of his hands."

"Oh, a TA?" Britta teases. "She left you for a smart college guy, huh?"

Dick claps a hand to his chest. "How dare you! I'm at least awesome enough that she left me for a college _professor_."

"Wait, a professor?" Britta frowns. "She's dating someone on the faculty?"

"Yeah. Kory's met him, I think," Dick says airily. "Divorced, five year old kid..."

"Hold on," Britta says, shaking her head a little. "Not only is Donna dating a professor, but he's divorced, and he's got a kid? Is that… I mean, I don't want to step on what makes her happy, but that seems…" She's not sure how to say "seems like a terrible idea for someone who's only nineteen" without, well, saying it. All of the Titans have grown up fast, out of necessity. All of them have faced terrible things and come out the other side stronger, closer. But still... Britta's uneasy.

Dick shrugs again. "I haven't met him, but Donna really likes him. I don't want her to think I'm the jealous ex kind of guy, because I'm totally not, so I don't want to ask too much about him, you know?"

"That's understandable." Britta drags him into a hug and stage-whispers, "You remember that Rowan and I had a midnight ice cream party when he broke up with Roy, right? So if you ever feel the need..."

Dick pats her back and nods solemnly against her shoulder. "I'll come armed with spoons and a tub of rocky road," he promises.

It never happens, but Britta keeps a close eye on him over the next few weeks. He honestly seems to be doing just fine, which makes sense if Dick was telling the truth about how serious his relationship with Donna wasn't. Britta wishes she could say the same for Rowan, but whenever she tries to ask him about Roy, he finds a way to avoid answering her. She's not the only one he's avoiding, either; neither of the twins have been to Titans Tower since the weekend Roy came back. And from the extensive media coverage of the mess with Brother Blood, it's clear the Titans have been on missions without them, though Jason does tag along on a few.

She finally grabs Dick for a mandatory ice cream chat session the week after Valentine's Day. "Rowan and Roy," she says bluntly. "Do I need to be concerned?"

Dick jams a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and makes a show of chewing and swallowing before he answers. "There is no Roy and Rowan. And whatever issues they have between them, I don't think it's going to matter, 'cause Roy took off again after the Brother Blood thing."

Britta sighs. "Let me guess: nobody knows where he went, or why."

"Got it in one," Dick says, taking another big scoop of ice cream.

"Great," Britta says, taking a bite of her own ice cream. She makes a mental note to try talking to Ollie again; he hasn't exactly been communicative about everything that's gone on with Roy, but maybe he knows something that might help. "Any idea when he'll be back?"

Dick shakes his head.

"Christ, the trust issues that kid has," Britta snaps. She can't exactly blame Roy for having trouble adjusting; three different families by the time you're fourteen is hard on anyone. But she looks at Jason and part of her wonders if he's ever tempted to smack some sense into Roy.

"He hasn't had it easy," Dick protests. "I mean, I know he and Rowan kinda messed up the whole relationship thing, and Roy's had problems with lots of stuff, but… he's a good guy. Honest. I'm sure whatever made him take off, it's a good reason."

"I guess I just have to trust your judgment," Britta says grudgingly. She doesn't have to _like_ it, though. And speaking of trusting Dick and the other Titans… "How's Donna doing?"

"Still rooming with Kory," Dick says evasively, and jams some more ice cream in his mouth.

"And how's Donna's college professor boyfriend?" Britta presses.

Dick blows out a sigh and tips back in his chair. "Promise me you won't yell."

Oh, that's never a good sign. "I can't promise that, but I'll do my best."

"And don't tell anyone I told you, 'cause I promised Donna."

Britta's already bracing herself for whatever this revelation is going to be. "Dick. Spill."

"He proposed. She's not sure what to tell him."

Britta tries not to let out a relieved sigh. She's not sure what she'd do if she had to keep some sort of shotgun elopement a secret from Diana. "Oh," she says. "Isn't that… kinda soon?"

Dick wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, it's only been like six months."

"Well, I'm glad she's taking some time to think about it," Britta says. "I won't tell Diana, but please tell Donna that I'm always available if she wants to talk, and that I know Diana would be, too."

"Yeah, but Donna doesn't want to say anything until she's had a chance to figure out what she's thinking first." Dick sets down his spoon and runs a hand through his hair. "It's supposed to be a big deal, an Amazon choosing to be with a mortal. Y'know, permanently. Donna says she'd probably have to give up her powers."

"Wow," Britta says, setting her spoon down as well. "That's a really big deal."

"Right? I mean, how do you even ask someone to do that? I don't think I've ever loved someone enough to want to give up the Titans," Dick says.

Britta bites her tongue; she's absolutely certain that's a lie, but Rowan would never ask Dick to stop being a Titan, so the point is moot. Their bond is stronger than pretty much any other two people Britta has ever met.

"Not that she'd have to give up just 'cause she has no powers," Dick babbles on, oblivious. "I mean, look at Rowan and me. And Roy."

"And Jason," Britta adds. "And that's just the Titans. I'm on the Justice League, and I don't have powers."

Dick rambles about the Titans for a while; he clearly loves talking about his friends, and he's a natural storyteller. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot," he says finally. "Can you help me brush up on ASL? Joey asked me to help out at his school and I don’t want to look like a total doofus in front of..." And then he's off again, telling stories about Deathstroke's other, not-so-murderous son.

Britta smiles and nods along as she scoops herself a little more ice cream. Apparently she's going to have time to enjoy it.

-0-

Britta's not surprised when the twins ask her not to throw a big party for their seventeenth birthday. It's been a hell of a year, so their request for something that's just for family makes sense. She decides on a long weekend in New York, silently grateful that the twins' birthday falls the week _after_ Saint Patrick's Day. She'd originally requested neighboring rooms, but the hotel had apparently misunderstood her; Room 827 is at one end of the hallway, and Room 829 is all the way at the other end. Britta starts to ask the receptionist to change the rooms around, but the hopeful look on Dick's face at the thought of not being directly supervised makes her change her mind.

"Just remember I'll see the bill for your room," she says instead. "So no Playboy Channel."

Jason starts laughing as Britta wheels her suitcase towards the elevators. "We can watch an action movie though, right?" he asks as he calms down. "Something with a lot of explosions? To test their sound system for them, of course."

Britta has no clue why Jason's so gung ho about watching a movie tonight, but sometimes it's best just not to ask. "Sure, why not?"

"Awesome," he says fervently, poking Dick in the side. "Bet our sound system is louder than yours."

"They're down the hall," Britta reminds him. "I really doubt we'll hear anything from their room, and if we do, someone will probably complain to management."

"We're not gonna try to compete," Rowan says, shooting Dick a look. "We can be quiet. Right?"

Dick just nods frantically and drags Rowan into the elevator. He spends the elevator ride bouncing a little on his toes, and as soon as the doors slide open, he's out and almost running down the hall.

"Wow, he must really have to pee," Jason says, rolling his eyes.

"No inviting anyone up to the room!" Britta calls after him.

"I'll make sure he behaves," Rowan promises as he heads down the hall more sedately. "We're eating in two hours, right?"

"Right. You can open your presents at the restaurant if you like."

"Sounds good," Rowan says. They all wince as Dick finally wrenches the door open and walks inside with a whoop. "And on that note…"

"Happy birthday!" Jason says cheerily, and waves him off.

Britta shakes her head and heads the other way, towards the room she'll be sharing with Jason.

When they get inside, Jason chatters non-stop about the places they can go, the things they can see. Considering how much time he's spent with the Titans recently at their tower _in New York_ , it's more than a little suspicious.

"What gives?" she finally asks. "You've seen most of that stuff before."

Jason blushes a little and looks away. "Yeah, well, not with family."

Britta ruffles his hair. "Whatever you think you're trying to distract me from, it's not necessary. I'm fine."

Jason shakes his head and blushes a little more, but he doesn't say anything else.

Britta and Jason end up heading downstairs to the hotel restaurant by themselves after Jason's action movie; Dick is running late for one reason or another. Britta's got two envelopes in her purse, one for each of the twins. She's fairly confident in her gifts, and she can't wait to see their reactions.

Jason casts a sly look at her and tries to order hard cider. The waiter raises his eyebrow at Jason and looks to Britta, who snorts and shakes her head. "Nice try, kiddo."

"Aww, you're no fun," Jason says, grinning at her.

"No fun at all," Rowan agrees, sliding into the booth across from them. Dick sits after he does, smelling like the hotel's soap. "Sorry we're running late. Someone decided to take a shower at the last possible second."

"It's my party and I'll bathe if I want to," Dick shoots back.

"I'm not going to argue with that," Britta says, folding her menu and putting it down. "Figure out what you want to order, and then we can get to present time."

Dick makes his decision in record time and then sits there nearly vibrating in his seat. "I have no idea how you're going to top the car."

"Maybe I didn't," Britta replies. "Maybe I got both of you socks."

Rowan takes his time, probably just to make Dick squirm. He keeps it up until the waiter returns to refill Jason's soda, but apparently he can't drag it out any longer than that, because he folds his menu and they all order.

"So, who wants to open their present first?" Britta says, as if the answer isn't obvious already.

Dick starts to raise his hand, then bites his lip and looks at Rowan, who rolls his eyes. "Yeah, Dickie, nobody's surprised. And they say the oldest is supposed to be the most mature."

Dick starts dancing in his seat. "Go me, it's my birthday."

"Tomorrow's your birthday," Jason corrects as Britta hands Dick his envelope. "And that's definitely not socks."

"It could be a gift certificate for socks," Rowan points out.

Dick cracks open the envelope and slides the card out carefully. He shakes the envelope a little and pouts when nothing falls out, and Britta congratulates herself for thinking ahead and writing a description of the gift inside the card. Dick sighs and starts reading. Then he makes a squeaking noise.

"Thank you!" he says, tossing the card down and sliding out of his seat so he can hug Britta. "Oh, man, it's going to be great!"

Jason snatches the card up and starts reading before Rowan can get to it. "Oh, wow, tickets to see _The Lion King_? That sounds so cool!"

Rowan's face abruptly shifts into what Britta can only describe as a frozen mask of horror. "You got us tickets? Thanks, Mom."

"I got Dick and Jason tickets," Britta corrects with a grin, handing over Rowan's card. "We're going shopping."

"Yeah!" Jason yells. "Hakuna Matata!"

"What a wonderful phrase," Dick adds.

"No," Rowan says. "Absolutely not. You guys sing along all you want at the show, but spare the rest of us." He smiles at Britta. "And thanks for sparing me."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm sparing myself too," Britta says in a stage whisper.

Rowan nods as he reads his card. He's definitely all smiles when he finishes. "A specialty sporting goods store," he says, sounding satisfied. "Excellent."

Jason and Dick start talking excitedly about what they want to wear to the show, and if it would be tacky to buy a stuffed lion and bring it with them.

Rowan comes over and wraps his arms around her. "You're the best."

"I do try," she replies, hugging him back. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

-0-

"I don't see why we have to come home early," Dick says, even as he's climbing off of his bike. "We should be out there with you. You _need_ us watching your back if Joker's out there." 

"That's not your call, it's mine," Britta says, her voice modulator making it come out like a growl. She switches it off so the boys can hear her actual voice, emotional inflections and all. "I need to know you're safe more than I need the backup. I can call Huntress or Black Canary in if things get dicey."

She turns to Rowan, who's been suspiciously silent. "If you go back out there against my orders, one or more of you could die."

"Dick's right," he says, looking straight at her. "You need backup. You need us, and you're benching us because you're afraid. We're better than that, Britta."

Britta waits a minute for Jason to stomp into the changing room and then replies quietly, "I'm benching you because it's going to take both of you to stop him from taking on a challenge he's not ready for. Jason's been spoiling for a fight ever since Harvey got arrested and we all know it."

"He's not going to jump into a fight with the Joker," Dick objects, but she can see Rowan nodding thoughtfully.

"He could easily jump into a fight with some of the Joker's goons, and not realize how close he is to the man himself until it's too late."

Dick shudders a little. "Fine, okay. Just promise us you'll call Helena _and_ Dinah, even if you don't think you need it."

Britta nods. "I'd bet they're already suited up and on the street. We're not the only ones who monitor police bands."

"Call them," Dick insists. "Before you leave."

Rowan rolls his eyes. "Way to mom Mom, Dick."

Dick pokes his tongue out at him before turning back to Britta. "Make sure you wrap up warm, young lady."

"Now you sound like a grandma."

"I'll call them," Britta promises, smiling at them. "And I'll check in with Alfred every hour on the hour, so you know I'm okay."

"That may not be necessary, Miss Britta," Alfred says from the foot of the stairs. Britta turns to look at him, and the expression on his face has Britta's heart racing. "Detective Bullock is here to see you."

"Bullock?" He hasn't come by the house since carrying out the search warrant for Harvey. If he's here instead of Jim, there must be something very wrong. Something involving an active case.

Britta turns on her heel and runs to the changing room, stripping off her armor as fast as she can and throwing on a robe over her body suit. She can only hope it's not about Harvey. If he's broken out of Arkham alongside the Joker, there's no way she'll be able to keep the boys in the house.

"Get changed," she says sharply when Dick and Rowan appear, "and meet me upstairs in five minutes. _All_ of you," she adds, so there's no ambiguity for them to exploit.

"Got it," Rowan says, already pulling his gauntlets off. "We'll get Jason up. Go."

She rushes through getting her mask off and loses at least one layer of skin in the process. At least she's got cowl-hair; she can muss it up a little and say she was sleeping. She gets all the way to the top of the stairs before she realizes she's still wearing her boots. She kicks them off just inside the stairway and slips inside, grateful that they keep the hinges on the clock well-oiled.

Bullock's waiting in the sitting room, and he visibly relaxes when he sees her. "Thank Christ," he mutters. "You've got no idea how glad I am to see you safe and sound right now."

"What happened?" Britta blurts out.

"Joker," Bullock says grimly. "We… something happened, and we've got reason to think he might be going after family members of local cops and political figures. Dent might not be in the house anymore, but who knows if that's registered in Joker's head?"

Britta's stomach churns. "Who was it?"

Bullock sighs. "The Commissioner's daughter. Barbara. She's alive," he goes on, apparently in response to whatever terrible look Britta knows must be on her face. "Couple'a Bats happened to be in the area. Joker's in the ICU in Arkham thanks to that Huntress, and Miss Gordon's in surgery."

Britta can't move. She can hardly breathe. If she'd been there, if she hadn't been selfish and pulled the boys back...

"Ms. Wayne," Bullock says, leaning in. "Take a deep breath, okay? We're not gonna let that psycho get anywhere near you or your kids. I'm in charge of security for your family, and you can be damn sure I'm taking it seriously."

Britta shakes her head. "Who's with Jim? His wife is still in Chicago, isn't she?"

"Jim was gonna call her," Bullock says, sighing. "She'll probably come back, but not to stay. It's gonna be rough, that's for sure. He's at the hospital now."

"I'll get dressed. He shouldn't have to be alone right now."

"You don't have to," Bullock starts, but he stops himself and shakes his head. "Actually, you know what? He could really use the company, if you're up for it. I've got a few cars in the area running patrol, so we can watch out for the kids."

"Uh, no, we're coming with you," Jason says from the doorway.

"What?"

Britta reaches out and Jason steps up close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Babs was his tutor last summer," she explains to Bullock.

"And she's our friend," Dick adds. He and Rowan are standing side-by-side. They're not hugging, but Britta can tell that's entirely for Bullock's benefit. "We're going."

Bullock shakes his head. "Look, there ain't a lot you kids can do-"

"We're not kids," Rowan says coldly. "Besides, it'll be a lot easier for you if we're all in one place."

"That's true," Bullock says, crossing his arms. "But that don't mean it has to be at the hospital."

"They can come, Detective," Britta cuts in before Rowan and Bullock can get into an out-stubborning match. "Go get dressed, boys. We'll leave shortly."

Bullock grumbles, but he agrees to wait while they get dressed and escort them to the hospital. He brightens up a little when Alfred offers him coffee.

"Montoya and her ride-along are going to go in front, and I'll follow behind you," Bullock says when they're all back downstairs. "We'll get you there and escort you up to the Commissioner. I called him to let him know what you were planning, so he knows you're coming."

Britta clears her throat. "Thanks, Harvey." God, that's awkward.

"You don't have to," Bullock says, looking anywhere but at her. "I'm more'n used to people just calling me Bullock. Don't worry about it."

She sighs in relief.

Bullock gives her a small smile. "Used to be people didn't know which one of us to call Hothead Harv."

"I can see it," she says, smiling back. "He… he really thought you were a great cop. I don't know if that's worth anything anymore, but there you have it."

"I know some folks ain't happy 'bout having to revisit his old convictions, but if you ask me, he was a damn fine lawyer. One'a the few good ones."

"He was," Britta says firmly before clearing her throat. "About that escort?"

"Ready to move when you are," Bullock assures her.

"Let's go, then," she says. Much more reminiscing and she's going to end up in tears, and she'd rather not show up to the hospital already crying.

The boys come thumping down the stairs, and they all head off.

Britta zones out almost as soon as they climb into the car, wondering what she's going to say to Jim and how she's going to handle it if Babs doesn't pull through. Jason nudges her when they pull into the hospital parking lot, and by the time Bullock signals that it's all clear and they can get out of the car, Britta has mostly pulled herself together.

The boys hang back with Bullock when they reach the floor for the ICU. Britta squares her shoulders, shoves her bad memories firmly away to be dealt with later, and strides down to the visitors' lounge. Gordon is sitting in one of the chairs, his trademark tan trenchcoat crumpled into the seat beside him. There's a hospital coffee cup sitting nearby, and Britta is struck by how old and tired the whole scene makes him seem.

"Jim," she calls, but he doesn't react until she stands in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder. He looks up and she's glad she was able to keep herself from crying earlier, because it's clear he's been doing enough of it for the both of them.

"Britta." Jim stands up so fast he almost knocks over his coffee. "What happened? Your boys-"

"Are right over there." She points at them, and the three of them wave in unison.

"I called you," Bullock says. "From her house, remember? Told you I was bringing the whole horde down to keep you company."

Jim blinks hard behind his glasses. "Oh. Right."

"Hey, Detective," Dick says, tugging on Bullock's arm. "Can you show us where the cafeteria is? I forgot to bring a snack."

"Yeah, yeah," Bullock grumbles. "Let's go."

Britta sits and beckons for Jim to do the same. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jim sighs. "There isn't much to talk about. Barbara was over for dinner, she answered the door... Next thing I know I'm waking up on the kitchen floor with a bump on my head."

Britta winces. "Bullock says the doctors think she's going to be fine."

"Yeah. Thanks to the timely intervention of a couple of costumed vigilantes." Jim sighs heavily and scrubs a hand over his face. "I think... actually, I don't know what to think anymore."

"Not that it helps, but that's par for the course right now," Britta says. "Once she's out of surgery and you can see her for yourself, you'll feel a lot better about whatever's bugging you. Aside from the obvious, I mean."

"I just - why were they watching my house?" Jim shakes his head. "If there was a threat, Batman would've told me. So why were they there?"

"Maybe they had some sort of clue that the Joker would go after you," Britta says. "Batman is supposed to have access to a lot of intel, right? Maybe he could get there faster than he could warn you."

Jim's silent for a while, and then he leans in close. "Or maybe it wasn't a coincidence Barbara came over for dinner tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"She has all kinds of scars I had no idea about," Jim says quietly. "The nurses asked me about it, and when I said I had no idea they got this _look_ , like they figured she'd gotten out of a bad relationship. But I know that's not it."

Britta's heart starts pounding in her chest. "She's definitely not the kind of woman who'd put up with that, no."

"And the costumes who showed up tonight weren't the usual crowd," Jim continues. "Which makes me think - aw hell, what does it matter what I think if they got her out alive?"

"You think whoever showed up tonight knew Babs personally," Britta says, trying not to give anything away. "Or that she knew them."

"If she knew them, or if she was somehow involved with them... well, it makes a lot of pieces fall into place." Jim sighs, and then adds, "I just don't know if I _want_ to put the pieces together."

"That's fair," Britta says slowly. She'd really always known that Jim would figure out someone's identity sooner or later. She feels awful for being somewhat relieved that he knows who Babs was, but she's out of the field for now, and she can't really be linked to the rest of them the way Britta or the boys could be.

"You seem awfully calm about this," Jim says, breaking Britta out of her thoughts. "I take it Harvey told you about our meetings."

Britta shrugs. "I figured that you and Batman had to be on good terms, or at least cordial ones," she says. "Otherwise, one of you would have run the other out of Gotham by now. Personally, I'm glad the two of you work together; it makes me feel safer."

Jim gestures at the window to the ICU. "That makes one of us. You know, I could handle the connection to the less legal side of Gotham when it was just me taking the fall. My wife still thinks all those late nights were because I was seeing someone else, and she won't come back unless I 'admit' it. But that's my burden to bear. My daughter in the firing line? That's something else."

"If it was her," Britta says gently, "then I'm sure she had her reasons."

"I know. But it might be time to stop turning a blind eye and ask her what those reasons are. Help her figure out if they're really worth it."

Britta nods along. She had similar thoughts after what happened to Harvey. "I'm here if you need to talk it out," she says. "Or talk anything out, really."

Jim mumbles his thanks, and then they sit there in awkward silence for a while. Britta is gearing up to try to make some sort of conversation when the door at the end of the hallway opens and a doctor steps out, glancing around the waiting room.

"Do you want me to stay?" she asks as the doctor sees Jim and starts heading towards them.

"No," he says, standing. "I can handle it."

"Call me if you need me," Britta says, standing and giving him a brief hug for luck before heading off. Bullock probably needs to be rescued from her scheming sons by now.

She rounds the corner into the cafeteria just in time to hear Jason finishing a story. "-and then Dick fell into the pond," he says proudly, and she can hear Bullock laugh.

"How could ya tell it was Dick and not this wiseguy?" Bullock asks, pointing at Rowan.

"They're my _brothers_ ," Jason says, wrinkling his nose. "I can just _tell_." He pauses, then adds, "And Rowan wouldn't've screamed when he fell in like Dick did."

"Plus I have more style than that," Rowan chimes in. "I would've turned it into a dive."

"I have style!" Dick protests. "I was just surprised!"

Jason snorts. "Yeah, also you're not a semi-professional contortionist."

"I'm bendy," Rowan adds, and Dick just chokes.

"You would be too, Dick, if you'd kept up with your stretching like Rowan has," Britta says as she approaches their table. "I see you've been keeping each other company."

"Don't know how you keep up with 'em," Bullock replies.

"Practice," Britta says. "It also helps that Alfred won't let them in the house if they get too muddy."

Jason and Rowan banter, but Dick just stares at the ceiling for a while. Britta exchanges a glance with Bullock - kids are weird - and has to stifle a laugh when Bullock's eyes light up like he's a kid on Christmas himself.

She turns around and finds Alfred approaching with a thermos. "Coffee?" she says hopefully.

"Indeed," Alfred says, setting the thermos on the table. "I'm afraid we'll be using the hospital's paper cups, but I brought the coffee from home."

"I can see what you mean," Bullock says to Britta under his breath. "Alfie's a life saver.”

"You have no idea," Britta mutters back as Alfred passes the coffee around. "I haven't a clue where I'd be without him."

"Buried under mountains of laundry, I expect," Alfred says dryly, shooting sharp looks at each of the boys in turn.

"At the very least," Britta agrees as the boys look anywhere but at Alfred. "Thanks, Alfred."

"Thanks, Alfred," Jason chimes in, Dick and Rowan belatedly echoing him.

Bullock snorts. "Guess the brainwashing helps too."

"It certainly doesn't hurt, Detective Bullock," Alfred replies, handing him a cup of coffee. "One does what one must."

"Too bad the department can't afford to steal you."

Britta snorts. "I have to tell you, Bullock, we'd fight you for him, and I think we could take you out if it meant keeping Alfred."

"Yeah, put 'em up," Jason demands, raising his fists and grinning.

"Aw, save it," Bullock says, grinning. "I don't wanna ruin my beautiful mug on those fists a' yours."

Rowan plants his elbows on the table, chin on his hands. "You are dreamy, it's true."

Bullock throws a sugar packet at him, and it bounces off his nose.

Alfred clears his throat.

"Sorry," Bullock and Rowan say in unison, and Jason dissolves into a fit of giggles.

"I think it's time for us to head home," Britta says, amused despite herself. "I told Jim to call me if he needed anything, but I figure he won't, so I'll check back with him tomorrow. In the meantime, we could all use some sleep, I think."

"I was gonna say the same thing," Bullock says. "Give me a minute to round up the troops, and we'll escort you back up to your place."

Britta nods. "Can't say no at a time like this." If anything will keep the boys from heading out on their own, it's knowing there are witnesses stationed around the Manor.

"Up and at 'em, then," Bullock says, standing from the table. "Let's get all you Waynes tucked safely into bed."

-0-

Britta's starting to wonder if she can describe a week of her life without using the word "hellish." Babs pulled through the surgery fine, and the doctors have been optimistic about her recovery chances, but that's been the only bright spot. Jim Gordon's been strong-armed into taking leave while the GCPD investigate how the hell the Joker breached security. Britta knows the man probably needs it, but it's left her all but blind as to how the cops are proceeding.

Telling Dinah had been absolutely brutal. She'd come in the morning after the shooting to do her daily debrief with Bat Central, and Britta'd had to sit her down and explain what had happened to her girlfriend. Dinah's fear and grief had rapidly morphed into confused rage when Britta told her that Helena was the one who took the Joker down. Apparently Huntress has been having trouble with boundaries. Britta's just glad that Calico had decided to tag along with Huntress instead of staying in on Catwoman's night off. If Steph hadn't been there to talk Helena down, Britta's pretty sure the Joker would be in the ground, not the ICU. There's going to be a lot to talk about when Babs wakes up, but until then all they can do is wait and hope.

The good thing about the Joker being in Arkham's intensive care is that Britta is absolutely sure that she knows where he is. It's as safe as it ever is to let the boys patrol, which is good, because they all need the little bit of extra stress relief that they get on the streets.

The distraction is a relief too. There's only so much Britta can take of the resounding silence from the women who were in her antenatal group, all busy planning their babies' first birthday parties and avoiding her like her bad luck is contagious. She's never stopped missing Damian, not once, but the past few days have been even worse. His first birthday is tomorrow, and she has to think that he's out there somewhere, turning one. She can't bear to think otherwise. If she thinks about the milestones she's missing, or what he might look like by now, she'll go crazy. It's compounded by the fact that Harvey's not here for her to lean on. He's been adamant about Britta not going to see him, which she's trying not to take personally, but if he refused to see her on such an important date… Britta's honestly not sure what she'd do, but it wouldn't be good.

She can't think about it without spiraling out, so she chooses not to. She works all day at Wayne Enterprises, and then she comes home and bullies the boys through homework, and then she pulls a night shift. On good days, by the end of patrol she's exhausted enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. On the bad days, she spends as much time in front of the computer in the Cave as she can, doing her level best to keep going until she can't anymore. It's not a pace she can sustain forever, but she just has to get through the next few weeks.

Britta shakes her head, trying to force her focus to the computer screen in front of her. Woolgathering isn't going to help anyone. She startles when she hears a voice from her right side. "Hey, Britta."

It's Rowan, of course. Dick and Jason don't have his stealth, at least not when they're on home turf. "Hey, Rowan," she says, going for a smile. Rowan grimaces a little, so she drops it. "That bad, huh?"

Rowan leans on the back of her chair and waggles his free hand. "Let's just say you wouldn't have any trouble scaring bad guys. Or corporate asshats."

"I'll have to remember that one, then," she says. "What brings you down?"

"Impromptu Grease marathon," he replies, pointing at the ceiling.

Britta shudders. "But _why_?" she asks before she can stop herself.

"They'll be singing the songs for days," Rowan adds. "Can I patrol with you until it wears off? It might take longer if they're together, but then at least neither of us has to suffer."

"Sounds good to me," Britta agrees readily. "And if they complain, we'll just tell them they have to wait for a summer night."

Rowan groans. "That'll just set them off," he warns.

"At which point we can just swing away."

"True," Rowan says. He jiggles her chair a little. "So. Working on anything important?"

Britta sighs. "Always. But not really." He nods and moves so he can hoist himself onto the desk. He doesn't say anything, and while that's not uncommon for Rowan, she's pretty sure he's got something on his mind. "What's up?"

"Stupid question, but I have to ask," Rowan says, swinging his feet like he's eight years old again. "Do you miss him?"

"Every day," Britta says instantly. It doesn't matter which “him" Rowan's referring to, though the date does clue her in. "I will until we find him."

"I didn't - he was so little, and kinda... kinda boring. I thought there'd be time-" He chokes off and balls his hands into fists.

"Oh, honey," she says, standing up so she can lean in and hug him. "You had every right to think that, and when we find him..."

"He won't know me." Rowan presses his face into her shoulder. "All of you took your chance while you had it."

"He won't know Dick or Jason either," she says, closing her eyes. "He probably won't know me. We'll all have to start over."

"I'll do better next time," Rowan replies without hesitation. "We'll find him, and I'll do better."

"You're a good brother," Britta says firmly. "You don't have to like babies, Rowan. That doesn't make you a bad person."

Rowan just wraps his arms around her and holds on tight. They cling to each other for a while but eventually Rowan chokes out, "How do you do it?"

"I keep hoping I'll get a phone call," she says. "Or that we'll find something, or that someone will come forward with a tip. I have to believe we'll get him back." She squeezes him. "Plus, I still have three other sons. Having you and Dick and Jason here helps a lot."

"I have them too. Sometimes it's still not enough," Rowan says.

"And on days like that I keep busy." Britta pulls back and looks him in the eye. "Even when things are at their worst, there's always something to be done, someone we can help. We can be the difference for someone else that we couldn't be for Damian."

"Oh," Rowan says, like it's some sort of revelation.

Britta smiles tightly at him. "Now you know my biggest secret: what I do isn't entirely altruistic. I'm human, just like everyone else in this city, and sometimes I need them to give _me_ hope."

"You want hope, move to Metropolis," Rowan says cynically. "But Gotham works, I guess."

"At the very least, Gotham always gives us work," Britta replies. "So let's get to it, huh?"

"Sounds good to me," Rowan says, letting go and looking at her, face determined. "Give me something to do."

-0-

Britta is just starting to feel really antsy about the lack of information she's been able to get about local mob activity when she gets a call from Helena. They arrange to meet downtown. Britta revoked Helena's access to the Cave once she put two and two together and realized that the only reason Helena was in a position to save Babs' life when the Joker attacked is because she was watching the Gordons' house for weeks, like a stalker. Helena's been almost completely out of touch since, so for her to call and request a meeting now, she must have something big.

"The Bertinelli family sent a representative to make nice with the Falcones' new capo last night," Huntress says without preamble when Batman lands next to her.

"So that's where you've been." Going _undercover_ as her real civilian identity is a risky move, even for someone as skilled as Helena Bertinelli.

Huntress shrugs. "We needed info. I was in a position to get it. Do you want to hear it, or is this gonna be lecture time?"

"I need to hear it," Batman says flatly. Admitting that there are holes in her investigation has never been easy.

"Thought so," Huntress says. Before Batman can reply, she goes on. "The Falcone family is currently being run by Sofia, but there's a contender for the throne in the form of her uncle Mario."

Batman nods. That much is obvious. Why else would Mario risk returning now, after being deported once? But the last thing they need is another Falonce family internal struggle; Alberto killed dozens of people last year trying to prove he was better than his father. "What does Sofia plan to do about it?"

"Probably have him taken out," Huntress says. "Unless they can come to some sort of agreement, that is. The majority of the underlings would back her if it came down to it, so it's a matter of waiting to see if Mario's smart enough to have figured that out."

"He's relying on old-world misogyny to do his work for him. Never mind the fact that Sofia earned a lot of people's respect by keeping her mouth shut and doing jail time," Batman says tightly. "So what do you have to tell me that isn't either common knowledge or an educated guess?"

"They're going after Dent, that's what."

That name sends chills up her spine. "Dent? Why? When? How?"

Huntress folds her arms. "Sofia's pissed at him for killing her father. The Maronis want to get on her good side so she won't carve their territory into itty-bitty pieces now that their boss is dead. And what better gift for a mob-princess daddy's girl than the head of her enemy?"

"They're going to break into Arkham?" Batman asks. "Do they have connections inside?"

"I assume so, not that they'd tell me. My contact was Mario Falcone."

Batman blinks and tries not to let her surprise show. "You went into a mob meeting on the arm of Mario Falcone?" she asks, just to be sure. "Without backup? Without even telling anyone where you were going?"

"My usual backup is in a wheelchair," Huntress spits back. "There's no one else who's ever cared where I go."

"So if something had gone wrong, you would have had her find out from the front-page news that you didn't give enough of a damn to call for backup," Batman says quietly. "And here you say you care about her."

"You have as much information as I can give you. Use it or don't." Huntress shoots off a grapple line to put an end to the conversation.

Batman lets her go, mostly because she feels like she's talking to a brick wall. She shoots off her own grapple and heads for the Batmoblie; she's got some research to do that's best done from the Cave. On the drive back, she wrestles with whether or not she should call Babs and bring her in on the case. On the one hand, she's doing a lot with her physical therapy; on the other, she's probably going insane with nothing to do _but_ physical therapy. In the end she errs on the side of caution, stopping at a traffic light and texting Babs about their "resident unsocial butterfly." If Babs doesn't want to know what Helena's up to, she won't be shy about saying so.

Babs texts back as Britta is pulling into the Cave. The entire message consists of a frowning face, an ellipsis, and a question mark. Britta sends back an alphanumeric code to let her know which comm line to use.

"Hey," she hears a moment later. "What'd she do this time?"

"Walked into a meeting of all the crime families in Gotham on the arm of the man who wants to be the Falcones' next capo, provided his niece doesn't shoot him in the head for disloyalty."

Babs sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. "Is she okay?"

"As much as ever. She broke the mob case for me."

"That's good," Babs says. "That's good, right?"

"Good for the case, bad for me." Britta sits down and shoves back her cowl, hoping the cool air of the Cave will help clear her head. "The reason they've been keeping chatter to a minimum is because Sofia is planning something big to solidify her position - breaking into Arkham big. And her target is Harvey."

"Jesus," Babs mutters. "When?"

"I don't know. Sofia's sentimental, so probably on a significant date; she held the meeting on the day her father died."

"Halloween," Babs says after a moment. "That was Carmine's birthday. She'll do it on Halloween, if this is her idea of revenge."

"Then they have almost three months to prepare," Britta points out.

"And now so do we," Babs replies.

"Great," Britta says, closing her eyes for a moment. "We'll need to see if we can get some more intel on the streets. It might be easier, now that we know what we're looking for. Can you help me work up a list of stuff we need to figure out?"

"Of course." There's a brief hesitation and then Babs asks, "Are we handling this internally or are you okay with reinforcements? I mean, I know it's Harvey and you're going to do as much as you can, but on the other hand... it's _Harvey_."

Britta sighs. "I know." Last time she'd gone after him alone she'd gotten distracted, and Maroni died. That's part of why they're in this mess. "What kind of reinforcements did you have in mind?"

Babs sighs. "The kind who don't have personal grudges against Arkham's inhabitants."

"The League," Britta deduces. "Or the Titans. Someone who isn't based in Gotham."

"Exactly. Although there's a third option, too. I've started putting out feelers to, ah, independent contractors," Babs admits. "How much do you know about Lady Blackhawk?"

Britta frowns. "The one from the history books? Not much. It's been a long time since ninth grade US History."

"Well then, do I have a story for you." Babs proceeds to blow Britta's mind with the breadth of her knowledge about non-Gotham heroines.

"You know," Britta says when Babs finishes, "I'm glad you're on our side. If you were a crook, I'd be terrified you were going to take over the world." She pauses. "Not that you might not anyway, but at least I know you'd be a benevolent global dictator."

Babs snorts, and it's the closest Britta's heard her get to laughing in months. If that's possible, then anything is.

-0-

Jason starts getting antsy a week before his fifteenth birthday, and Britta suspects that the twins are teasing him about knowing what he's getting as a gift. They never do it when she might overhear, but there are a couple occasions when they fall suspiciously quiet as she walks in. She'd threatened to withhold their Christmas gifts for a week if they spilled the secret, but they've probably found some sort of loophole anyway. Their matching 'don't look at me, I'm innocent' faces only make her watch them closer.

She gets her confirmation two nights before Jason's birthday when he slumps into one of the chairs in the Cave while she's reviewing reports. "Rowan and Dick are terrible."

"Frequently," Britta agrees.

"They keep telling me how amazing my birthday present is," he grumbles, "but they won't even give me a hint."

"That's because if Rowan lets it slip, I'll let Dick redesign his costume. And if Dick tells you, he has to cut his hair."

Jason snorts. "Okay, that's great, but why torture me?"

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you." Britta lays a hand on his shoulder, and looks him straight in the eye. "Jason... you're an easy target. Sometimes when you get annoyed, even your hair has extra curl."

"Ha, ha," Jason says, scowling.

"You're proving my point," Britta replies.

Jason sighs and plants his chin on his hand. "So you're not going to give me a hint either?"

"Hmm," Britta says, leaning back and pursing her lips for a moment before shaking her head. "Nope. You're going to love it, though."

"Alfred's the only one who really loves me," Jason grumbles.

Britta nods sympathetically. "He won't tell you, either."

"But he won't tease me about it!"

"You only have to wait two days, kiddo," Britta reminds him. "Less than forty-eight hours."

Jason sighs dramatically, then perks up. "If I guess it, will you tell me?"

"No."

"This sucks," Jason says. "You have to tell me what Dick and Rowan are getting in, like, January. I want to hold it over their heads for as long as possible."

"Well, they're driving to school this year, since they're seniors," Britta replies immediately. "And that involves driving you to school, so feel free to lord it over them that they have to be your chauffeurs."

"Awesome," Jason says, grinning in delight. "That's even better, because it's something they really want to do, but they can't yet." His eyes light up, and he adds, "I can drive them up the wall!"

"You do that," Britta says, laughing.

He races out of the Cave, presumably to start taking his revenge.

The next two days are pretty funny to behold; Jason starts teasing the twins about their car that's sitting in the garage and how they'll have to drive him everywhere when September rolls around, and it seems like neither Dick nor Rowan had prepared for the possibility of retribution. Jason starts leaving Google Maps open on every computer screen in the house, plotting out various routes for "road trips."

Dick tries to call for a truce on the morning of Jason's birthday, but Jason just says that he's going to use some of his birthday money to buy a good set of maps for the car. "Just in case," he says, all fake-earnest. "You never know when the GPS will fail, and I don't want us to get stuck anywhere."

Britta smiles into her coffee as Dick sputters indignantly. If he hasn't learned by now that Jason can out-stubborn almost anyone, then he's not as observant as she's trained him to be.

Jason very obviously doesn't ask about his present when breakfast is cleared. Britta is almost tempted to wait him out, but she _had_ just been thinking about his stubbornness. "Well," she says, making a show out of checking her watch. "You'll be officially fifteen at 11:02. Think we should wait until then?"

Jason sighs melodramatically. "Whatever you say, Mommy Dearest."

"Make him wait," Dick says, just as Rowan says, "Eh, give it to him now."

"This is why everyone likes Rowan better than you," Jason says, poking his tongue out at Dick.

He turns back to Britta, which is why he misses Dick launching into a tackle-hug. They roll around on the floor for a few minutes before Dick gets Jason pinned. He plants a wet-sounding kiss against Jason's forehead before grinning up at Britta. "Okay, I guess he can have it now."

Jason scrubs furiously at his forehead, but he's grinning. "Dork."

"Just for that you get a birthday noogie," Dick replies.

"I don't think so," Jason says. Britta can see him plant his feet; Dick doesn't know that she taught Jason that throw, but Britta's pretty sure that if Jason tries it in here, Dick will end up going halfway through the end table.

She clears her throat, and they both look up. "Dick, off. Jason, that's not an upstairs throw."

Dick rocks back, smacking into Jason's legs. He looks surprised for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Hey, that would've worked, too! Nice one."

Jason shoves him off and ducks his head. Britta's pretty sure he's blushing at the compliment. They both climb to their feet, Rowan reaching down to flick Dick's shoulder when it looks like he's considering another tackle.

"Okay," Britta says loudly, in case the three of them dissolve into a bickering mess. "Jason, let's go take your bike for a test drive."

Jason freezes. "Really? A real one, out of the Cave?" When Britta nods, he lets out a loud whoop. "Best present ever!"

Dick drags him into another hug. "Happy birthday, squirt."

"We had to torture you a little so you'd appreciate this moment more," Rowan says with a smirk.

"I would've appreciated it plenty anyway," Jason says, but he's smiling too much for it to sound like a real objection.

Rowan shakes his head sadly. "Oh, so you don't want your leather jacket?"

"Leather jacket?" Jason yells loudly enough to make Britta wince a little. "Really? Does it match the bike?"

"Would I get you a present that doesn't coordinate with your stuff?" Dick asks, affronted. "It's like you don't even _know_ me, Jay."

Jason wriggles out of Dick's hug and throws himself at Rowan. "You guys are the best!"

Rowan exchanges a glance with Britta over the top of Jason's head. He raises an eyebrow and mouths, _Well_?

And yeah, okay, he was right; spreading the presents around between herself and the twins was a good tactic. She shrugs and nods, and he sends her a smirk. Britta resists rolling her eyes; how did she raise such a smartass?

Jason's so pumped up he trips over his own feet trying to get out of the kitchen, and Rowan has to grab the back of his shirt to stop him from faceplanting into the counter. Everyone gets down into the Cave in one piece, though, and when Dick pulls the riding jacket out of the back of the disguise closet, Jason actually pets the arm a few times before putting it on. Once he's wearing it, he honest-to-god coos. "My precious."

Rowan snorts. "Put on the helmet," he says. "We'll take a picture so you can see the full effect."

Jason dances across the Cave to a tune entirely in his head, and Dick tries to keep step with him. It's entirely hilarious to watch, especially after Jason catches on and does his best to change beats mid-step to fool Dick. There's a loud crash when the two of them disappear into the changing room.

Britta snorts. "Everything okay in there?"

"Fine!" both of them shout back.

Rowan cracks up laughing and has to sit down on the floor.

It doesn't take long for Jason to change into riding clothes, and when he comes back out, he's got his jacket on and his helmet tucked under his arm. He strikes a pose so Britta can take a picture. He doesn't seem to realize Dick is standing right behind him making bunny ears.

"Okay, practice time," Britta says, shooing Jason towards his bike. "Dick and Rowan are going to ride around the grounds with you to make sure you've got a handle on things." She holds up her hand when Jason whoops for joy. "A couple of ground rules, before you get too hopped up on adrenaline to remember: you only take the bike out on patrol if I'm with you, and only on nights with decent weather."

"Okay," he says eagerly. "Whatever you say, B."

"I'm serious, Jason. If you break my rules I'm selling the bike."

He looks heartbroken for a second, but then he nods. "Your rules. Got it." Then he ducks in, kisses her on the cheek, and darts away to jam his helmet on.

She shakes her head, smiling as Rowan and Dick make their way over to the bikes. Part of her wants to go over and make sure Jason remembers everything they've been practicing in the Cave, the clutch and the throttle and all of the little things that you need to remember for riding. Before she gets the chance to, though, Rowan leans over and points to various things on the bike, asking Jason questions and nodding as he answers. Britta's stomach lurches as she abruptly realizes: this is going to happen more and more in the years to come. Her boys are growing up, and they're more likely to ask each other for advice than her. On the one hand, it's nice that they get along. On the other...

"Come on, Rowan, he's got it," Dick says after a few minutes. Rowan frowns and mutters something that Britta can't hear, but it makes Dick go bright red and Jason start laughing so hard he almost tips off his bike.

Britta raises her eyebrows but pointedly doesn't ask. There are _some_ advantages to being out of the loop, after all. She's pretty sure that Rowan drags out the review session for longer than he originally intended to just to annoy Dick, but before too long they're all starting their bikes and heading for the road out of the Cave.

Britta smiles to herself. She can't wait to see the look on Jason's face when Alfred gets back with the new pizza oven they're installing in the back yard. If he doesn't already think this is the best birthday ever - which, Britta has to admit, he pretty much does - then he definitely will when he sees that. Pizza is Jason's favorite food group, but more often than not Alfred objects to ordering in, on a professional level. Homemade crust is a compromise that should make both of them happy. After everything they've been through, Britta's learned to appreciate the small things in life.

-0-

Jason comes home from his first day of school with a smile on his face. He enjoys school, so it's not terribly out of place, but the way Rowan teases him about his new girlfriend makes Britta listen more closely. Jason punches him in the arm, but the smile stays. She puts it together at dinner that night, when Jason mentions that Tim Drake is in his geometry class. "She's really smart," he adds.

"I bet she is." Britta bites back a smile, but she's pretty sure Jason can see it anyway. The tips of his ears turn red.

"She's not my girlfriend," he says. "Rowan's making that up."

Britta nods along. "He does that sometimes. I think he was born with romance-colored glasses."

Rowan immediately looks affronted and points to Dick, who blinks innocently and protests, "I didn't start it, I swear."

Rowan rolls his eyes and grumbles, "Yeah, sure you didn’t. Because you _never_ give people ridiculous nicknames."

Britta snorts. Of all the things that might have happened after the mess this past year has been, Rowan morphing into Cupid was not on Britta's list of likely possibilities. But hey, it could be worse.

"I'm happy that I don't have to figure out who to sit next to," Jason says. "I can just sit next to Tim, and when we have to do those dumb buddy problem sets, I know my partner won't drop the whole thing in my lap and run away."

Britta raises an eyebrow. "Because you can count on _Tim_ ," she teases. "Since you two know each other so well now."

"Not you, too," Jason whines, stabbing at his food. "C'mon, B. She's already got a girlfriend."

Huh. "Okay. Sorry."

There's a little more dramatic sighing and potato-stabbing, but the rest of dinner goes by fairly smoothly. After Alfred has cleared the dishes, Jason sits in his chair, fidgeting a little. "So. I kinda wanted to ask you something."

"I kinda figured," Britta replies. "What's up?"

"Have you seen the winter uniform?"

Britta frowns and thinks back. "Slacks, long sleeves, tie, and jacket, right?"

Jason nods. "Yeah, for the guys."

"And?"

"The girls don't get an option to cover their legs. Even when it's snowing."

"That's terrible," Britta says, thinking of her own school uniform, which had been remarkably similar, and remarkably uncomfortable. "Do you want me to call the school?"

"Well yeah, if you think that'll work." Jason fidgets some more, but he doesn't say anything else.

"I think he has something a little more active in mind," Dick cuts in.

"What's that?" Britta asks when Jason doesn't immediately spit it out.

"Skirts. For all of us," Rowan says, elbowing him. "Brother solidarity."

"You want uniform skirts?" Britta sits back, blinking. "I'm guessing it's not technically against regulation, and that's the point?"

"Yeah, exactly!" Jason says, rocking back in his chair with enthusiasm.

"We checked the school handbook on the way home," Dick says, warming to the topic. "It specifically says that girls can't wear pants, but it never says that guys can't wear skirts. Jay thinks we can get a few other guys in on it too, maybe get the school policy changed."

"Sounds good to me. I'll get you an appointment for new measurements," Britta says decisively.

Jason grins. "Awesome. When d'you think they can be ready?"

Britta grins back at him. "Money talks, so I think Monday would be reasonable."

"Should we go the whole nine yards?" Dick muses. "I mean, I've got no problem with shaving my legs for a good cause."

Rowan snorts. "Like you need an excuse to show off your legs."

"I totally don't," Dick agrees. "I have amazing legs. The world needs to see them."

"I wouldn't shave just yet if I were you," Britta replies. "It may not seem like it, but that hair adds a lot of warmth."

"It's not in the rules that girls have to," Jason adds. "And I think you'll stick out better if you have your gross hairy legs under the nice new skirt."

"Excuse _you_ ," Dick says indignantly, leaning over to give Jason a shove. "My legs are not gross, they're natural and beautiful. The legs of my people."

"Gross," Jason repeats. "You've got so much leg hair that you look like a wild animal. Dick Grayson, Boy Wolf."

Rowan grabs him in a headlock and gives him a noogie. "You're in no position to throw stones, Curly Sue."

"My hair is stylish," Jason says, elbowing Rowan in the ribs and trying to duck away. He doesn't get far. 

Rowan leans in and rubs his stubbly face against Jason's soft cheek, making him howl and twist away. "Embrace the hair, Jay. One day it'll happen to you too."

"No," Jason howls, abandoning all fighting technique in favor of shoving at Rowan's chest. "Don't give me stubble burn. It's a terrible look for me."

Dick plants his elbows on the table. "How exactly do you know that, Jay? Gar doesn't have face fuzz unless he's an actual wolf, so what guys have you been making out with?" He blinks rapidly, clearly _trying_ to look innocent, but Britta's pretty sure Dick already knows the answer to his own question.

"None of your business," Jason hisses, his eyes darting to Britta. For all that her children are excellent crimefighters, they're terrible liars when it comes to family.

Britta quietly files away the confirmation that at least two of her sons - the jury, as always, is still out on Dick - are some level of queer and single. "As long as you're being safe and smart, Jay, you can keep your secret," she says, and smiles at the look of relief on Jason's face. "Just remember what I said about breaking hearts."

"You don't want to bail me out of Valentine's Day brawls," is all Jason says before going back to his coffee.

Britta's a little relieved he's not ready to talk about it; she's not ready to hear about it. He's fifteen, and she has no idea when he started dating someone new, but if she doesn't see it, she doesn't have to face how fast he's growing up.

"I'll call the tailor," she adds, pushing her chair away from the table and standing. "With any luck, we can get the three of you in for fittings tomorrow, and from there Operations Pants can proceed."

By Monday Jason has his new uniform; by lunchtime the school's tried to send him home twice. By Tuesday Dick and Rowan's skirts are ready, and Britta has the HRC on speed dial. On Wednesday, four more boys have skirts, and by Friday, the school announces its new dress code: skirts and pants for whoever wants to wear them.

Jason smiles all weekend after the decision is made, and Britta can't blame him, especially when he asks if Tim can drop by on Sunday afternoon. When Alfred announces that Tim's at the door, Jason races upstairs. Apparently he wants to have his makeover-montage moment. Britta follows him up, and sure enough, he beams even more widely when he sees her in her new uniform pants. He runs up to her and picks her up, laughing and spinning them both in a circle. "Yes! Pants!"

Tim grins, waiting until he sets her down to ruffle his hair. "Now all we have to do is come up with a strategy for Kylie."

"I'm working on it," Jason promises, sliding his eyes to Britta. She's not sure who Kylie is, or what the situation might be, but she recognizes the look of pure determination on Jason's face.

"Don't mind me," Britta says dryly. "As long as no-one gets arrested, I'm sure it's fine." Nothing stops Jason when he gets that look anyway, but at least she's on record telling him to at least _try_ legal avenues first.

"No kidnapping," Tim says sternly, poking Jason's shoulder. "You promised, Jay."

"I like her. She can stay," Britta says, and then she leaves them to fuss with their hair.

When Britta gets back down to the Cave, Dick is walking out of the changing rooms, adjusting the tape on his hands. She nods at the monitor showing the upstairs sitting room, where Tim and Jason are deep in conversation. "They're really not dating?"

Dick nods once and holds up a finger. "Yet," he says. "They aren't dating _yet_."

Britta narrows her eyes as Jason smooths down his skirt. "If he knocks her up before they finish high school, I'm holding you and Rowan partly responsible."

"What?" Dick squawks. "Why?"

Britta hands over a credit card. "Because you're in charge of condom supply."

Dick looks horrified for a split second before he gets a challenging look on his face. "Only if Rowan and I can get our stuff with this, too."

"That's fair," Britta concedes. "But bear in mind that if you spend more than $200 in one place it'll trigger an automatic audit, and I'll see what you're buying."

"Got it. No full-body latex suit."

"And never tell me why you know the price of a full-body latex suit off the top of your head," she adds. "It's a deal."

-0-

"I think I'm ready," Jason says a week before Halloween.

Britta blinks. "Okay, great. Ready for what?" She really hopes he doesn't mean the pan-gender sex talk; it'd gone really badly with Dick and Rowan, and they still make fun of her powerpoint.

Jason flops onto the couch and tucks his feet up under him. "We keep having secrets come back to bite us on the ass, so..." He takes a deep breath and puts on a brave face. "I want to see my birth certificate."

"Oh." Britta's honestly not sure what to think; she'd known, of course, that this would come up at some point, but she hadn't really considered it being anytime soon. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure I want to know about my past so it can't blow up in my face later," Jason replies. "And it's just information on a piece of paper. Whatever's on there, it doesn't change that you're my mom now."

Britta sits down next to him. "No, it doesn't. I'm always going to be here for you."

Jason smiles nervously. "That makes it sound like it's gonna be bad news."

Britta grimaces. The last thing she should be doing is making this worse than it has to be. "Let me get the file," she says, standing up and going to her filing cabinet. The file with Jason's birth certificate has been in the locked bottom drawer since his adoption hearing, when he'd said that he didn't want to see it yet.

When she gives it to him, Jason handles it like it's covered with traces of high explosives. He removes the paper carefully, putting the file in his lap and looking at the certificate. She doesn't say anything as he reads it.

"This isn't my mom's name," Jason says after a minute.

Britta doesn't have to look at the birth certificate to see why Jason's confused. She had been, too, the first time she'd seen it; Willis Todd is listed as Jason's father, just as expected, but where Catherine Johnson's name should have been was written Sheila Haywood.

"According to tax records, Catherine Johnson lived in Connecticut until a month after you were born," Britta says gently.

"But I was born in Gotham," Jason says shakily. "It says so right here."

"To Willis Todd and Sheila Haywood." Britta opens the folder and pulls out another piece of paper. "He married Catherine six months later."

"But," Jason says, still staring at the birth certificate. He doesn't continue his sentence.

Britta just sits with him and waits while he wraps his head around it.

"I don't get it," he continues after a while. "When my - Catherine. When she got sick we had to move, 'cause she couldn't afford rent on a two bedroom place. If she wasn't my real mom then why-"

"Because you were her son," Britta interrupts as gently as she can. "Just like you're mine. Blood doesn't determine family, Jason. She loved you."

"She lied to me," Jason says fiercely. "All my life."

"I can't speak for her," Britta says carefully, "but I doubt she saw it that way."

He lets the birth certificate fall to the floor and balls his hand into a fist. "I don't care what spin she would've put on it, she lied."

Britta bites back a sigh and nods. "Whatever you need, Jason, just tell me."

"I can't - I could never count on my dad, 'cause if he wasn't in prison he was probably in the ER. She was supposed to be the good one."

"She loved you," Britta repeats. It's all she has right now, and really, it's the only thing she's sure of. She's just not sure it's actually helping.

"Should've known you wouldn't get it," Jason snaps, and he stomps out of the room.

Britta lets him go; chasing after him now won't help anything. She sighs and picks up the papers, setting them in the file and putting it on her desk.

She second-guesses her decision minutes later, when Dick comes running in to tell her Jason took his bike and left. "We didn't know what he was doing or we would've tried to stop him," he says, clearly panicking. "Rowan is getting his bike stuff together so he can chase after him. He looked really upset, B."

"I can't say I blame him," Britta says as she jams on a pair of shoes and looks for her car keys.

"What's going on?"

"I need you to stay here and track him," Britta replies. It's not her place to share Jason's private information.

She sees Dick swallow his protest before nodding, and it's almost as if he physically pulls on his Nightwing persona. "Got it. Should I be looking for anything specific?"

"He might go back to where he grew up. If he does, we need to intercept him before he gets into more trouble than he can handle." Crime Alley has always deserved its name, but it's gotten steadily worse over the last five years between the gang wars and the costumed villains.

"I'm on it," Dick says. "I'll catch Rowan up, see if he can head Jay off at the pass. We'll use the regular frequency."

Britta heads out and drives around all Jason's usual haunts, while Alfred tries to call his friends. She's getting more and more frantic as time goes on; an hour goes by, then another, and they're no closer to finding him than they were when he left the Cave.

She pulls over to take a breather when her cell rings. No point getting in an accident. The number isn't one she recognizes, but it's a New York zip code. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," Jason says flatly. "Donna made me call."

"Jason," she breathes, letting her head fall back against the headrest. "You're okay? You're safe?"

"Yeah. I needed to think."

"That's understandable," Britta says. "It's a big deal, finding out what you did. I wish I'd known where you were going, but I get that you had to get away." And if he's in New York with the Titans, then he's almost as safe as he'd be in the Manor. Donna won't let anything happen to him.

Jason sighs. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just started driving and ended up here."

"Okay," Britta says. "Okay. I believe you." She hesitates before going on. "Do you know how long you're going to stay up there?"

"Could you-" Jason cuts himself off and when he speaks again it's a little muffled, like he's cupping his hand around the receiver. "Can you come get me? I know you have work tomorrow-"

"I'm on my way," Britta promises, checking her mirrors before pulling back onto the street. "I'll be there in an hour and a half tops."

She hears laughter in the background, abruptly cut off by a sharp yelp.

Jason sighs again. "I'll be waiting downstairs. Gar already thinks I'm a momma's boy so it's not like I have any rep left to lose."

"I'll look the other way if you want to pinch him really hard," Brita promises. "Just this once."

"Nah, Donna's got it covered."

"Oh, good," Britta says as she pulls onto the Parkway. "I won't worry, then." Well, she won't worry _much_ , unless Alfred calls to say that Titans Tower has been demolished for the millionth time. It's a Friday, though, so they'll probably be fine. Tower-destroying events usually don't happen until Sundays.

"Please don't sell Gar my bike," Jason says _sotto voce_. "I know I broke the rules, but just don't sell it to _him_."

"I won't," Britta promises. "I'm not going to sell it this time. We'll talk about it when you get home, okay?"

"Okay. See you soon."

"See you soon," she says. She hangs up and takes a deep breath before dialing home to tell Alfred and the twins what's going on. Rowan volunteers to detour back to the mansion to pick up Dick; someone's going to have to drive Jason's bike back from New York. 

"If you two could spend the night at the Tower I'd appreciate it," Britta responds.

"We can do that," Rowan replies. "It's been a while since we did a Titans weekend. Can we stay until Sunday?"

"Sure. Jason's off the roster until further notice, though. Both there and at home."

She can almost hear Rowan processing that, but he doesn't comment. "Got it. We'll call you when we get to the Tower."

"Thank you." At least Britta doesn't really have to worry about those two when they're together.

She sets down her phone and heads out to collect her errant third chicklet. Apparently this is going to be the weekend to air all their feelings. Yay.

-0-

Britta can't fault Jason for his reaction, but she does wish the timing had been a little bit better. The week leading up to Halloween is fraught between them, and it doesn't help that Britta is working overtime in the Cave, trying to prepare for what she's sure will be a quick and vicious attack on Harvey. She can't be everywhere at once, either, and if it's a choice between being there for Jason and saving Harvey's life... she just has to hope one of them will forgive her. Jason's less than thrilled about being benched, but after the stunt he pulled she just can't risk letting him out in the field. He calms down a little when she flatly refuses to let Dick and Rowan join the defense op at Arkham.

"You'll need help," Rowan says, crossing his arms.

"Huntress and Black Canary will be there," Britta replies, checking her supplies yet again. She can't shake the feeling that she's not prepared for this, but then again, she could be carrying all the supplies in the Cave and still not feel ready. If she fails - if one of Maroni's men slips through and kills Harvey - the last thing she needs is to stretch her meager resources even thinner by trying to keep Dick and Rowan away from the scene. Besides which, they've already witnessed the deaths of their parents; they really don't need to be in the middle of an attempt on Harvey's life. She doesn't much want them near the rest of the inmates, either. Anything could go wrong with zero notice, and she doesn't want her focus to be split if it does.

"What if that's not enough?" Dick says, his eyes round and pleading.

"Babs has some friends on standby." And she's told both Dinah and Helena not to pull any punches. She doesn't want this to end with dead mobsters, but, well, she knows who she's working with. She'll live with the consequences of her choices, however this whole thing goes down. And any of them who might die tonight are intent on committing murder for cash. Helena, at least, won't lose any sleep over it.

"You should have us out there," Dick insists. "We can call the other Titans. If we all stick together, we'll be safer."

"I said no," Britta snaps. "And Babs will be monitoring all the cars and bikes. If you try to take one, she'll activate security and disable the battery."

She's a little surprised when Jason pipes up. "She's not going to change her mind," he says, shrugging. "Not about this, not now." He turns to Britta. "You'll keep us updated, right? We can stay in the Cave and stay connected?"

Britta nods. "Of course. And I thought maybe you could keep the two of them out of trouble by working on your personal project, if you're okay bringing them in on it."

"I could use all the help I can get," Jason says, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, guys, I've got a mystery to solve." 

Dick and Rowan both shoot mutinous glances at Britta, but they both snap to attention when Jason says the magic words: biological mother.

Britta sighs, and she hears Alfred clear his throat from behind her. He looks slightly worried, which means that his stomach is probably tied in knots. "Do be careful," he says, reaching out to brush imaginary lint off of Britta's shoulder. "I do hate repairing bullet holes."

Britta grimaces. "I really hope it doesn't come to that."

"So do we all," Alfred replies, stepping back. "Unfortunately, I'm told that hope isn't a valid form of currency."

"If it were, this wouldn't be Gotham," Britta points out. "It'd be Metropolis."

"Heaven forbid," Alfred sniffs. "I will be checking in with the boys from time to time. If there is anything I can do from here…"

"Just keep the boys here, no matter what it takes."

Alfred nods. "I intend to."

She heads out before the boys can come back and give her the stink-eye again. She spends the drive to Arkham going over what she's going to say to Harvey. There's no way he'd recognize her, but she still has to be careful; the last thing she needs is for Harvey to put two and two together when he's not mentally stable.

She parks and activates the Batmobile's security, rehearsing what she wants to say as she swings through Arkham's spires. Her number one priority is keeping Harvey safe, but there are a lot of factors that she can't control here. It'll take a lot of luck to get him to cooperate, but Batman's going to try anyway.

She doesn't see Huntress or Black Canary, but then she's not supposed to. Batman took the main gate, the most visible entry point and thus the least likely target. Now that she's checked it and confirmed there are no suspicious "late night deliveries" arriving, she'll take up her station at Harvey's door.

"Go away," Harvey says from inside his cell. "Your food is terrible. I'd rather starve."

The orderlies exchange glances, and then the one on the left apparently loses their mental game of rock-paper-scissors. "You have a visitor, Dent."

It's weird being inside a building wearing the Batsuit and having people know she's here, but this is one of the few occasions where surprise and confusion will hinder, not help. So she nods to the orderlies and they open the door.

Harvey is laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't turn his face when she walks in, and from this angle, he looks like his old self again. "I wondered when you'd show up," he says. He's got something in his hand that he's flipping into the air and catching repeatedly. "Here to tell me what a shame it is that I've gone to the Dark Side?"

"Here to make sure you still have a chance to come back to the Light Side one day," Batman replies. "Harvey, you could get plastic surgery, rebuild your family and-"

"Don't kid yourself," Harvey snaps. "The scars are a little more than skin deep."

She winces. “I’m aware of that. Have you heard from your wife? Your kids?"

Whatever Harvey was going to say in response is drowned out by the sound of gunfire. Batman runs out of Harvey's room, slamming the door behind her. "Lock it," she snaps. "No-one gets in or out of that room."

"Yes, sir," one of the orderlies says, springing to the door and locking it. "Should we stay here, or-"

"Stay," she says. "Unless your life is in danger, you stay put."

She's about to swing up onto the ceiling when there's an almighty _boom_ and the whole building shakes. No-one has ever attempted a full frontal assault on Arkham before, so it takes a while for her brain to catch up to reality.

The mortar dust in the air makes her cough, so she puts on her rebreather. She taps on her comm when she can breathe again. "Canary, Huntress, report," she says as she starts running for the lobby.

"Canary here. Looks like the explosion was centered on the maximum-security cells."

"Confirmed," Huntress cuts in. "Ivy and the Hatter are loose. Solomon Grundy's door is barely holding."

"It's a distraction," Batman mutters. Then, louder, "It's a distraction. They're letting out as many inmates as they can in the hopes that it'll keep us busy."

"Batman, this is Oracle," Babs cuts in smoothly. It gives Batman a jolt; it's the first time she's heard Babs use that particular name. It suits her, though. "I'm sending in some backup."

"Acknowledged," Batman says shortly. There's no time to argue.

"We'll handle the round-up," Black Canary says. "You stay focused on your objective."

"Shit, Grundy's loose. A little help would-" Huntress cuts off, and they can all hear the sounds of fighting.

"Lady Blackhawk is three minutes out," Babs says. "Huntress, can you hold until then?"

There's a tense silence for a couple of seconds, and when she comes back she sounds out of breath. "Sure, this is fun."

"I'll tell her to get a move on," Babs replies.

Batman stops paying attention to the comm when she hears a stampede of footsteps. "Incoming, front hall," she snaps, and then she jumps towards the first attacker. From there it's a flurry of punches and kicks, dodging out of the way and spinning around so she can tackle the one who ran past her. Once she has him on the ground, kicking and swearing but pinned, she takes a chance on checking how many companions he has with him. Eight; in these narrow halls, they're more likely to get in each other's way than anything else. It's a small mercy, but Batman will take everything she can get at this point. She kicks at the pinned attacker's knee and hears it dislocate. That should keep him down while she works her way through the rest of them.

"Not so fast, Bats," someone says from behind her.

When she spins around, she sees that the orderly who opened Harvey's door earlier has picked up a spare gun and is holding it to his shift-partner's neck.

Damn it. Damn everything, Batman thinks as she readies a batarang. She should've told the orderlies to run when the gunfire broke out. She should've considered that one of them might be the inside man helping arrange this whole mess.

"Drop the gun," she calls out. There's pretty much no chance it'll work, and sure enough, the orderly laughs.

"I think not," he says, backing up a little and nodding at the invading group. "Door's open. Get the freak and get out."

"Yeah, that's not happening," Batman hears. Before she can move, Huntress swings feet-first from the ceiling, knocking both orderlies to the ground. The gun goes skittering across the floor, and Batman kicks it down the hall, away from the fight.

Batman doesn't work with Huntress often enough to make their moves seamless, but they fight decently. It's not until Batman hears the crack of a gunshot and a yell of pain from the cell that she figures out they missed one of the attackers.

Britta yanks the cell door open. "Harvey!"

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Harvey howls. He's still on the bed where she'd left him, but now he's clutching at his thigh, and Britta can see blood spreading on the leg of his pants.

She elbows his assailant in the nose, unphased by the crunch of bone. "Let me see," she says, pulling his hands away from his leg. "Harvey. Let me see it."

He tries to shove her away but he's weakening quickly, which probably means the bullet nicked an artery. Britta digs into her utility belt and pulls out a compression bandage. "Huntress! Dent is down!"

Huntress stalks into the room and zip-ties the man on the floor. "What do you need?"

"Call in a medical emergency, then help me with the bandage," she says. Her gauntlets are already covered in blood. If they don't get Harvey to the hospital soon, he's not going to make it.

"Oracle, send us a med team that isn't going to try to blow our heads off," Huntress says, and then drops down next to Britta to place proximal pressure above the wound.

"Fuck," Harvey hisses. He throws one arm over his face and pushes his other hand into his hair. "Didn't - didn't think I'd go out like this."

"Shut up, you're not going anywhere," Huntress snaps back.

Harvey smiles, and from this close, Britta can see how garish it looks when the scarred side of his face attempts it. Arkham hasn't been doing him any medical favors. "Tell my wife-"

"Tell her yourself," Britta cuts in. There's no way she can deal with Harvey's deathbed confession, not when she can't let him know she's there.

"I have a tourniquet," Huntress mutters for Britta's ears only, "but if we get it too tight he could lose the leg."

"Better the leg than his life," Britta says. "Do it."

Harvey screams when they move him and then mercifully passes out. The blood flow slows when the tourniquet is tightened. Britta can only hope that he hasn't already lost too much blood, and she can't help but shudder when she remembers her earlier conversation with Alfred.

"Keep it together, Bats," Huntress says, breaking through the fog of Britta's thoughts. "Just keep it together a little longer, then we can let the folks who get paid for this shit take over."

"Right," Britta mutters. She can hear the sound of people calling to each other in the hallway; this is normally the part where she takes off, but she can't leave Harvey until she knows he's in good hands. "Get going. Meet at the rendezvous point in twenty."

Huntress snorts. "Not leaving without you, boss. I have orders."

"I give the orders," Britta says, but she doesn't force the issue. It'll only be a few minutes before the responding units find them.

A police radio chirps to life just outside the door, and Huntress gets up. "Show time."

Britta nods and stands, blocking Harvey from view. She watches as someone walks through the door, relieved when the light catches the officer's face. "Montoya."

Montoya nods. "Wilkes is standing guard. We have to clear the room before they'll send in paramedics."

"Do it," Britta says. "Dent is in bad shape."

Montoya keys her radio to send the all-clear and then bends down to secure the man who shot Harvey. By the time she's done, Britta plans to be long gone.

She comes out of the room just in time to see Huntress tip Wilkes a salute. "Good night, officer."

"Let's go," Batman says shortly.

Huntress smirks at her. "Ladies first."

Britta gives her the cowl equivalent of an eyeroll and walks past her. Twenty minutes later, they're on the roof of a vacant building thee neighborhoods away, where Black Canary and Lady Blackhawk are already waiting for them.

"Report," Britta says, before remembering who she's talking to and adding, "Please."

Britta doesn't like the wary looks that they exchange before Black Canary sighs. "We were able to contain every inmate but one," she says. "I'm sorry, but the Joker is on the loose again."

-0-

Britta barely sleeps over the next week and a half. She pours all of her energy into tracking the Joker's movements and trying to stay one step ahead. The body count so far is zero, which doesn't comfort Britta at all. The Joker's planning moods tend to mean more trouble in the long run than his short bursts of craziness. Between her research and keeping up with Harvey's hospitalization, she barely has time for sleep, let alone anything else. She assumes the boys are working hard on their investigation into Jason's birth mother, because they haven't asked to patrol with her again, but she doesn't have the energy to check in with them.

Jason approaches her on the eleventh day after the attack on Arkham. He doesn't say anything for a while, so Britta keeps working. He'll get there eventually.

"Did you know she was here, in the US?" he says after a while.

Britta stops typing. "Sheila Haywood?"

"Yeah. She's - she was working overseas for years, but now she's one county over. She came back just before I found out about her, and I just thought - that's one hell of a coincidence."

"It is," Britta agrees. "What did you find out about her?"

"She's a doctor!" Jason exclaims. "Isn't that cool? You have to be crazy-smart to get through med school."

"That's great," Britta says, smiling. "What was she doing overseas?"

The way Jason says " _Charity work_ " in response makes Britta wonder if there are literal hearts in his eyes.

"She sounds like a good person," Britta says. "So, she's back in New Jersey. What's your plan from here?"

"I want to meet her. Like, yesterday." Jason bounces on his toes but doesn't say anything else.

"I figured you might," Britta replies. She knows she has to handle this delicately, but honestly, she isn't sure how to go about it without hurting Jason's feelings. "One thing you need to keep in mind, Jay, is that you don't know why she left you with your father. She might have some reasons to not want to meet with you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jason says, flapping a hand in front of himself. "Willis wasn't exactly the Wizard of Oz, granting people their deepest wishes and helping them on the journey to self-discovery. Rowan ran a credit check, and it looks like she met him 'cause she had to go to a loan shark to cover school."

"Ah," Britta says. "Well, okay. As long as you're careful, I don't see anything wrong with you setting up a meeting with her. Someplace public."

Jason just stands there for a minute, saying nothing. Britta gets the sense that she's missing something, but a minute of wracking her brain doesn't bring any clarity. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Jay, I don't have a problem with you meeting her."

"Yeah, great," Jason replies, turning and walking towards the stairs. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Britta is about to call him back, but then the computer pings with a result. Apparently the floor of the recently-emptied warehouse she checked out last night had residue from solid fuel missiles. And not the amateur kind, powered by zinc-sulfur propellant or black powder. A lead is a lead, and this one might actually pan out into something, so she dives back in.

It's another week, more or less, before Jason comes back down to visit her in the Cave. "So I met with Sheila today," he says.

Britta saves her report and turns away from the screen. "How did it go?" She's more than a little nervous. Legally there's nothing Sheila can do to take Jason away if he doesn't want to go, but he's more than old enough for the courts to take his wishes into account. And Sheila Haywood never intended to give her child up for adoption; she left him in the care of his biological father.

"Good. Great, actually," he says, breaking into a smile. "She says she'd like to get to know me." His face falls a little when he adds, "But she really specifically said that I shouldn't call her Mom or think of her like that. An aunt, maybe."

"Ah." Britta tries to keep her sense of relief from showing on her face or in her voice, so when she asks, "Are you okay?" it sounds a little flat.

"Yeah," Jason says, sighing a little. "I mean, it would be cool to have another mom, but I get that she doesn't want to _be_ my mom. And it's not like she spit on me and ran away or anything. She was nice about it." He brightens up again. "We're going to have lunch over the weekend, if that's okay."

"Of course it is. I'm happy for you, Jay," Britta says, even managing to push work out of her head for long enough to give him a smile.

He smiles back, but he glances away after a moment. "Would you… I know you're busy and everything, and the whole mess with the Joker is a huge problem, but would you like to come with me?"

"If you want me to, I can make some time."

Like a switch flipping, he's all sunny smiles again. "Awesome! Thanks, B." He struts out of the Cave, grinning down at his phone.

Britta pulls up her calendar program and puts in the lunch date, with several reminders so she doesn't forget and accidentally work through it. She's feeling pretty good, all things considered, until Alfred drags her upstairs for dinner and Jason isn't there.

She frowns at his empty seat. "Anyone know where Jason is?"

Dick clears his throat. "He got a phone call about an hour ago and shut himself in his room to talk to whoever it was."

Britta rolls her eyes. "If you two would stop teasing him about Tim, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to hide from you when she calls." She pushes her chair back and stands. "I'll go get him."

But when she gets upstairs and knocks on his door, there's no answer. "Jason, dinner's ready," she calls. She waits a minute before knocking again. "Jay? Is everything okay?"

She tries the door, but it's locked. She's officially worried now. "Jason," she calls loudly, knocking again. "I'm getting the key and coming in there." It only takes her a moment to find the church key and open the door, but her stomach drops when she sees inside.

The room is wrecked, distinctive fist-shaped holes in the walls and the mirror. Britta sweeps through the room, praying desperately that Jason is hiding in a corner or the bathroom, but she already knows what his open window means. She leans out the window and spots it almost immediately: there's a grapple lodged in the big oak a few feet away. What the hell was he _thinking_? From this height he could've fallen and broken his neck. And why didn't he tell anyone what's going on?

She tears out of Jason's room and thunders down the stairs. "Cave, now," she snaps as she runs past the dining room. "Jason's gone. We need to find him."

-0-

The search for Jason takes less time than Britta thought it would, mostly because everyone abandoned dinner and rushed downstairs to help. Dick and Rowan tackle the security footage from the Manor and the grounds while Britta pulls up Jason's cell phone records. The last call he got came from a cell that pinged off a tower downtown. She glances through the log, noting that he's called that number and gotten calls from it a few times over the past week. Britta swears as it clicks in her head: it has to be Sheila Haywood. Whatever she said to him, it pissed him off enough that Jason didn't stop to think, or ask for help. Maybe he's fine, maybe it's just a personal matter, but with Britta's luck lately and with the Joker on the loose? She's not taking any chances.

"Report," she calls as she pulls up a tracer program. She plugs in both Jason's cell number and Sheila's and starts it.

"The butler at the Falcone estate just reported a stolen car," Rowan says tightly.

Britta scowls. The Falcone place is close enough to Wayne Manor that all Jason would've had to do is hop over the fence, take out anyone who saw him before they could realize he was a threat, and hotwire the car. He probably wouldn't even feel any guilt for stealing from mobsters. "How long ago?" she asks.

Dick sighs heavily and smacks his console. "The guy didn't notice it was gone for a while but according to their GPS, which Babs kindly patched me into, the car started moving forty-five minutes ago."

"Shit," Britta breathes. That's a long head start. "Can we get a location from the GPS?"

"It's stopped in the Narrows."

Britta picks up the phone and dials Babs, then puts her on speaker. "Can you patch the GPS signal through to me while I'm on the go?"

"Consider it done, B." 

True to her word, by the time Britta buckles herself into the Batmobile, the GPS signal is on her HUD. The car is still in the Narrows, but it's not near anything of note that Britta can recall. "What's at that address?" she asks over the comm as she speeds out of the Cave.

She hears a string of curses in return. "It's a block away from that warehouse you were looking into," Rowan says.

Britta swears and leans onto the gas pedal. "Nightwing, Flamebird, do not assist. Do I make myself clear?"

"Not a shot," Dick says flatly. "If Robin's down, we're going in."

Britta punches the steering wheel. She doesn't have time to argue. "We could be dealing with unstable explosives, so make sure you bring fire gear," she responds, and guns the engine.

"I'm going to hold off on alerting the GCPD for now," Babs says. "In fact, I'm going to divert anything that pops up near that block until you need the police there."

"Acknowledged." Britta speeds towards the exit, hoping against hope that evening traffic on the freeway has cleared by now. Damn it, maybe she should've taken one of the bikes.

Luck, for once, is on her side; there's nobody pulled over in the shoulder, so she's able to fly by everyone on their way home. She ditches the car when she gets to the Narrows, setting off on foot through the maze of buildings.

She'd parked pretty close to the warehouse, but it still takes her a few minutes to make her way to it. She can smell the smoke before she can see the building, and it takes her a few tries to choke out words. "Call in a fire. Get everyone down here." Then she pulls on goggles and a rebreather. Can't help anyone if she ends up being a victim herself.

The smoke is billowing out of the broken windows of the warehouse when Britta rounds the corner. She doesn't see any movement from inside, but she doesn't let herself think about what that might mean as she runs in.

Britta doesn't get far before she stumbles over a body. She forces herself to crouch and hates herself for breathing a sigh of relief when she notices it's not Jason. Sheila Haywood doesn't seem to be breathing, but Britta doesn't have time to investigate. She pushes on, groping around on the floor when the smoke gets too thick for her to see. She has to find Jason, has to get him out.

"Mom."

Jason's voice is so weak she almost doesn't hear him over the crackle of the fire.

Britta stops, looking around. She can't see anything, but she hears him call again, followed by a toppling noise to her left. She turns and sees a pallet on the floor, and a hand weakly fluttering from behind a nearby crate.

She yanks the crate out of the way and oh god, there he is. She can't - he looks like someone worked him over with a meat tenderizer.

Britta unhooks her cape, wraps it around him, and picks him up.

Jason whimpers and tucks his head into her neck. "Hurts. All - trap. Joker, and… I can't feel my legs, Mom."

She can't talk with the rebreather in place, so she just holds him tight and heads for the door. Dick and Rowan are right there, dealing with Sheila. Rowan looks up at her and shakes his head. She's already gone. Britta steps past them so Jason won't have to see the carnage.

She can already hear the sirens approaching. Thank god it's policy to send an ambulance along with a fire engine, because Jason needs to be at the hospital an hour ago. Once she's out in the alley she moves aside, so Dick and Rowan can set down Sheila's body in a spot where it won't be burnt to a crisp. Then she does one of the hardest things she's ever done in her life: she hands Jason over to Rowan and goes back to the Batmobile. She needs to get changed ASAP so she can respond when the call comes.

There's a satellite Cave nearby, so she'll be able to switch into a less conspicuous vehicle without going all the way back to the Manor. She drives there as quickly as she can, pulling pieces of the uniform off as she goes. Alfred meets her there with a go bag, and she's just finished changing and washing soot off her face when her phone rings.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out before answering. "This is Britta."

-0-

As soon as she sets foot in the hospital, Britta's whisked into a meeting with doctors and lawyers and a bunch of people whose names she has no hope of remembering. All she wants to do is see Jason, but he's in surgery. The doctors are very carefully talking around his condition, which is just setting Britta more on edge. She's close to losing it and hitting someone when the door slams open and Alfred walks in, followed closely by a distressed-looking secretary.

"I'm sorry," the woman apologizes, "but he insisted-"

"I most certainly did," Alfred says, coming to Britta's side and putting his hand on her arm. "Miss Britta."

Britta tilts sideways and wraps her arms around him, hiding her face in his shoulder.

She can hear him talking to the doctors, but she can't make herself focus. He'll tell her what she needs to know when everyone clears out. She can't do this, she can't take it all in and hold herself together. But she can't fall apart in front of these people either, can't afford to say anything compromising about what really happened. The worst part had been lying to them. No, she didn't know where he'd been; no, she didn't know what he could have been doing in the Narrows. No, she had no idea who the dead woman in the building with Jason was.

"Is that really relevant?" Alfred snaps.

Britta hasn't heard him use that tone of voice since her parents died.

"We're just trying to figure out," one of the doctors begins.

"I ask you again," Alfred says sharply, "if that is relevant to saving the boy's life."

One of the doctors folds his arms over his chest. "It's a lot of scars for someone his age. We have every right to be concerned."

" _The boy_ has a name," Alfred replies. "And his circumstances before he came to live with us three years ago are part of a sealed record. Are you asking me to break the law and breach his privacy?"

One of the lawyers coughs. "Ah, no, of course we're not. We just want to be sure that-"

"-that I'm not, what, beating him?" Britta cuts in. They all stare at her.

The same lawyer squirms a little. "We wouldn't accuse you of that, ma'am."

"No, but you'll ask her questions about the subject and hope she implicates herself," Alfred says coldly. "If there's nothing medically relevant to discuss, then Ms. Wayne and I are going to sit in the waiting room and wait for the rest of the family to arrive."

"My father worked at this hospital for years, and my mother made several large donations." Britta gives an ugly smile. "I guess that's why none of you ever asked these questions when my brother broke his arm twice in six months."

The hospital's director puffs himself up. "Ms. Wayne, in light of your husband's recent behavior-"

"We are done here," Alfred says. "Miss Britta, do come with me. As for the rest of you, if you have any further allegations, you can bring them up to the family lawyer."

She moves after him on autopilot, almost walking straight into the secretary who's still hovering outside. Alfred leads her past the woman and into the private waiting room. Dick and Rowan are already inside; she's not sure when they got here, but she's incredibly happy to see them. She curls up on the couch with them to wait for news, one on each side tucked safely in her arms.

"Britta?" someone says from the doorway, and she looks up to see Bruce running in. He looks like someone woke him up to get him here - his hair's a mess, his clothing is rumpled, and Britta couldn't care less, because he's here.

"I..." Britta attempts, sitting up. She has no idea what to say. "Jason..."

"It's gonna be okay," Bruce says, crouching his massive frame down in front of her and taking her hands. "He's going to be fine, Britt. He's a strong kid."

All she can do is nod. Jason has survived so much in his short life. She can't fathom the alternative, so she grips Bruce's hands and leans against Rowan's shoulder.

Her brain feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool, no room for input, so she has no idea how much time has passed when someone knocks on the door and coughs politely to get her attention.

"Jim," Britta says wearily. "Any news? Have you figured out what Jason was doing there, or who that woman was?"

"Unfortunately, no. That's not why I'm here." Jim hesitates for a moment, hovering in the doorway. "Say, Bruce, d'you maybe want to take the boys for a walk?"

Britta's stomach turns as Bruce glances from her to Alfred and back. "Yeah, sure. C'mon, guys, let's go get Britta something to drink from the cafeteria."

Dick and Rowan get up and slide into each other's space like metal to a magnet. It's impossible to tell which is which - who's the attractor, and who's the one drawn in - but they hold hands tightly as they go. Bruce stands and walks out the door with them, casting a look back at Britta as he goes.

Gordon shuts the door firmly behind them. He glances as Alfred, who just narrows his eyes slightly. Gordon sighs.

"So," he says, "after the Joker attacked Jason, he went to visit Harvey in the high security ward of the prison hospital."

Britta sucks in a breath. "If Harvey's dead, just tell me. I can't take waiting anymore."

"He's not," Gordon says. "The Joker is."

"My word," Alfred blurts out. "What on earth happened?"

Gordon hesitates. "We're not sure of the details, but from what Harvey told us and what the security cameras picked up… well, he was there to taunt Harvey about Jason. Harvey… didn't take it well. He shot the Joker twice in the head."

"From what he told you?" Britta echoes. "You've talked to Harvey already? Where is he? If you need me to talk him down-"

"He's here," Gordon interrupts. "I've got officers outside his room, and they know to alert me if anyone but the doctors we signed off on approaches. He was… waiting, Britta. He wasn't trying to get away."

Britta opens her mouth and then snaps it shut again. What can she even say to that?

"He popped a few stitches in the encounter with the Joker, but physically he's alright," Gordon adds.

"But he killed the Joker," Britta says.

Gordon grimaces. "He confessed to it, but I'm pretty sure given Harvey's psychiatric history that'll be thrown out of court."

"The Joker did this to Jason, and then he went straight for Harvey," Britta says out loud just to make sure she's putting the pieces in the right order. She doesn't really trust herself to think things through. "Why?"

There's a long silence before Gordon sighs and takes off his glasses, rubbing at his nose. "We've got a theory, but you're not gonna like it."

"I need to hear it," Britta insists. "I need to know why this keeps happening to my family."

Gordon sits down next to her, leaving a careful foot of space. "During the Holiday spree Carmine Falcone put out a hit on Harvey, for a million dollars. We don't think the contract was ever rescinded after he died; there are rumors Sofia doubled it once Harvey-"

"Became Two-Face," Britta cuts in. "A million dollars per face, for the man who killed her father."

Gordon nods, "And the Joker lost a lot of assets after what he did to - after he went back to Arkham, last time." 

Britta's not surprised Jim choked on his daughter's name. "So you think that he went after Harvey to collect the bounty," she says. "But what does that have to do with Jason?"

"We're still trying to figure that out. Best we can figure, she lured your son out somehow so the Joker could use him as leverage. Or a distraction."

"She," Britta echoes. "The dead woman."

Gordon nods. "That's what it looks like, based on the voicemail your son left for her earlier tonight."

Britta goes cold all over. The Joker hurt Jason. Sheila helped him do it. And none of it would've happened if Harvey hadn't taken it upon himself to be judge, jury, and executioner. "Alfred, can you call my lawyer, please?” 

Harvey's going to need separate representation. She could never bring herself to blame him for everything they’ve been through in the past couple of years, or for Damian, but this? Jason fighting for his life in payment of a blood-debt Harvey created? This is the last straw.

Gordon sighs. “Britta-”

“I need to see him,” she cuts in to head off any useless platitudes he has to offer. She’s known Harvey for over a decade; he deserves to hear it from her that their marriage is over.

It doesn't take her long to get in to see Harvey; apparently she's on Jim's short list of people who are allowed in the room. Not that the guards take their eyes off her for even a second. After she shuts the door, she can still feel them watching her back, literally, through the narrow pane of glass.

Harvey has his eyes closed, but she can tell he's not sleeping. After a minute, he sighs heavily. "I already gave my statement. Can't a man wait to go back to his padded cell in peace?"

"I don't want you to say anything," Britta replies. "I want you to listen."

"Britta," Harvey says. His eyes fly open, and it hurts more than she thought it would. He sounds like himself, and the uninjured side of his face is contorted like he's about to cry. "I… Jason. Is it true?"

"He's in surgery. The doctors don't think he'll make a full recovery, but he's stable."

"Oh, thank god," Harvey says, squeezing his eyes shut again. "I thought - the Joker said he was dead. Blown to pieces, and he was bragging-"

"So you shot him," Britta says. "Twice. In the head."

Harvey nods, his face drawing tight. "I don't regret it."

"Of course you don't. Just like you don't regret killing all those mobsters, because they 'had it coming,' right?"

"I'm cleaning up this city the only way I can, thanks to _all those mobsters_ ," he replies. "They won't let me back in the office. This is the only avenue I have left."

Britta crosses her arms, fighting down the urge to slap him. "I've come to accept that I can't stop you, but I don't have to let you hurt my boys anymore."

"What-"

"Why do you think the Joker went after Jason?" Britta says coldly. "He wanted the money Sofia Falcone put on your head after you slaughtered her father. But the last time someone tried to collect on that contract, Batman was there to stop them."

Harvey shakes his head. "Joker's never in it for the cash. He's in it for his sick idea of laughs."

"He's flat broke," Britta replies. "Even he needs money. And he attacked Jason so Batman would be busy rescuing a civilian kid while Joker went after you. It probably only added to the joke in his head that the kid he attacked was tied to you."

The scream Harvey lets loose chills her to the bone. He thrashes in his restraints, the tears in his eyes finally spilling over. Not so long ago Britta would've been glad to see that he still cares so much; now it's too little, too late.

"I can't do this anymore," she says quietly. "You won't let me in; you won't let me help. You keep doing whatever the hell you want to do, and what you're doing is hurting my children." She takes a steadying breath. "I've already lost Damian to forces beyond my control. I will not lose Jason or Dick or Rowan to something I _can_ control."

She doesn't bother saying anything more. He won't hear her right now anyway, and he'll get the message when the paperwork comes through to end their marriage and sever his parental rights.

"Goodbye, Harvey," she says instead, and forces herself to turn and walk out the door.

-0-

Britta smells the coffee when she wakes up by Jason's bedside. It's still hot, which is really confusing because whoever left it for her seems to have disappeared again without her being aware. And it can't have been Alfred; he's driving Dick and Rowan to school, because it's their first day back since Jason's accident and Britta hadn't wanted them to get into a car chase with paparazzi. She reaches for it and brings it up to her face so she can take a sniff. It's not hospital sludge, which means that it wasn't any of the nursing staff, either.

"I didn't know if you take sugar, so I've got a couple packets," a voice says from behind her. Britta turns and finds Tim Drake is standing there, hand outstretched, with a few packets sticking out of her hand. "There's an Equal and a Splenda, too. Just in case. And I've got creamer."

"Thank you." Britta takes a sip and holds out her hand for the creamer. "How did you get in here?"

Tim fidgets. "My dad's on this floor. And Jason's guards might be under the impression that I'm his, uh - that we're closer than we really are. Rowan helped."

Britta smiles at her. "I don't mind. Jay can use all the friends around him he can get right now, and try as I might, I can't be here all the time. Work gets in the way more than I'd like it to."

Tim blinks rapidly, seemingly thinking hard about something, and then she steps forward and shuts the door behind her. "Must be tough balancing all that shift work," she says cagily.

"I don't handle scheduling, thankfully," Britta replies, stirring the creamer into her coffee. "The department heads handle all of that. I'd go crazy if I had to micromanage all of the schedules."

"Not all of them," Tim insists. "Not the graveyard shift."

Britta freezes. "Excuse me?"

"Oracle helps manage those, right?"

"What are you-"

"Because you're Batman," Tim rushes to add. "And Jay - he's Robin, and the twins, they're Nightwing and Flamebird, but I'm not sure which is which."

"Look," Britta says tightly, "what happened to Jason has been hard on all of us, including friends like you. But indulging in fantasy isn't going to help you-"

"It was Dick and Rowan who gave it away," Tim cuts in again, like she needs to say everything she's got planned before she loses her nerve. "I was - when their parents died. I was there that night, and I have a picture that I took with them." She pauses to pull it from her backpack and hand it over. "Rowan promised that he and Dick would do their special quadruple flip just for me, one of them right after the other one. Only… well, you know."

"I know what happened to their parents, but the rest of this-"

"It might not have been such a big deal if only one of the Robins could do a quad flip," Tim says, "but both of them?" She pulls another picture out and shows it to Britta. This one isn't a souvenir; it was clearly taken by someone who was, for lack of a better word, following Batman and the Robins. Dick and Rowan are both in mid-flip across Sprang Street.

"Who gave you this?" Britta says, as evenly as she can manage.

Tim crosses her arms across her chest. "I took it."

"From who?"

"No, I mean, I took the photo," Tim elaborates. "With my camera. Uh, I had to crouch on top of the heating unit on the building behind that one, and I'm zoomed in as far as it would go, so it's not the greatest angle."

Britta stops for a minute to let that sink in. This girl knows who they are, she knows Jason personally, and she's gone out of her way to follow them. It's a terrifying breach of security. And if Tim hadn't volunteered the information Britta would still have no idea they were being followed.

"I haven't told anyone else," Tim says quietly. "And - and I won't, okay? I know why it's such an important secret. I spent a long time trying to figure out whether or not I should let you know that I knew, but then when Jason got hurt, I knew I had to."

"Why?" Britta's voice comes out cracked, and she has to close her eyes. "What do you want?"

Tim clears her throat, and Britta forces herself to open her eyes back up and look at her. Tim looks determined as she says, "I want to help."

"What?"

"Jason's lucky you were there," Tim says firmly. "You saved his life, and you help people in ways no-one else can. That's what I want."

"You want to help," Britta echoes faintly. "And how, exactly, do you think you can do that?"

Tim takes a deep breath. "Well, Batman needs a Robin."

Britta shakes her head. "You don't know what you're asking."

"My dad is two rooms down from here." Tim says evenly. "I know exactly what I'm asking."

Britta takes a moment, breathes in, and thinks about how little she understood when she put on the cowl herself. How much she underestimated the way her decision would shape the city, and how much it would affect everyone around her, everyone she cares about. At least Tim has some idea of the price the work exacts.

And then she says, "Okay, then. We have work to do."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Major changes:** : Britta is several years older than Bruce, so Batman has been around for longer. Some of the major events in canon have been compressed, some have been moved around, etc. Also, Dick Grayson now has a twin brother, because reasons. Again, feel free to get in touch with us if you'd like more specific details.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are much appreciated. And yes, there is more to come in the series, so stay tuned!
> 
> Follow us on tumblr! [ariadne83](http://ariadne83.tumblr.com) and [somehowubroken](http://somehowubroken.tumblr.com)


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